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MEMOIRS 



OF 



EMINENTLY PIOUS WOMEN 



OF 



BRITAIN AND AMERICA. 



COLLECTED AND EDITED BY 

DAVID FRANCIS BACON 



<Y 



Favor is deceitful and beauty is vain ; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be 
praised. — Proverbs xxxi. 30. 



/° NEW HAVEN: 
PUBLISHED BY DANIEL McLEOD, 



1833. 



3>z 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1833, by Daniel McLeod, in the Clerk's office, 
of the District Court of Connecticut. 



Printed by Hezekiah Howe & Co. 



d 

CONTENTS 



Page. 

Preface, 5 

Lady Jane Grey, 9 

Queen Catharine Parr, 33 

Countess of Warwick, 45 

Lady Elizabeth Brooke, 59 

Lady Alice Lucy, 72 

Lady Frances Hobart, 76 

Viscountess Falkland, 84 

Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, 102 

Mrs. Catharine Clark, 122 

Countess of Carbery, 137 

Lady Rachel Russell, 145 

Mrs. Elizabeth Bury, 159 

Queen Mary II., 183 

Mrs. Elizabeth Burnet, 206 

Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, 212 

Countess of Seafield, 229 

Elizabeth West, 246 

Lady Elizabeth Hastings, 260 

Countess of Huntingdon, 272 

Lady Ann Agnes Erskine, 280 

Viscountess Glenorchy, 285 

Lady Henrietta Hope, 297 



IV CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Mrs. Sarah Edwards, 301 

Mrs. Sarah Osbom, 332 

Miss Susanna Anthony, 363 

Mrs. Martha Laurens Ramsay, 384 

Mrs. Isabella Graham, 395 

Mrs. Harriet Newell, 419 

Miss Fanny Woodbury, 431 

Mrs. Susan Huntington, 439 

Miss Caroline Elizabeth Smelt, 469 

Mrs. Susan Poor, 493 

Mrs. Elizabeth Dolson, 512 

Mrs. Sally Agard, 519 

Miss Elizabeth Peck, 522 

Miss Lydia B. Leavitt, 531 

Miss Elizabeth Hough, 535 

Mrs. Sally Rundal, 539 

Miss Catharine Brown, 543 

Tahneh, 560 

Mrs. Jane Clark, 564 

Mrs. Elizabeth Bishop, 568 

Mrs. Ann Hasseltine Judson, 575 

Mrs. Esther Butler, 581 

Eliza, 585 

Mrs. Myra W. Allen, 593 

Miss Hannah Adams, 602 



PREFACE 



The learned and philosophical Bayle remarks, " Atheism is not 
the vice of women 5 they make it a virtue not to enter into deep 
reasonings, so that they adhere to their catechism, and are more in- 
clined to superstition than impiety." If this is indeed the natural 
constitution of the sex, it cannot be esteemed at all unfortunate with 
reference to their destinies in life, but manifests, on the contrary, the 
wisdom of him who forms and fashions the moral as well as the phys- 
ical part of humanity. For the business to which women are called 
in life, is seldom of such a character as to require the boldness and 
severity of investigation, which in the sterner sex sometimes degen- 
erates into undiscriminating scepticism. The office of training the 
infant mind, and giving to the young immortal those first principles of 
thought and feeling that must constitute the character for ever, needs 
powers and propensities of a different kind from those of him who 
devotes his life and labor to the discovery of new truth. The mother 
seeks and finds the materials of instruction, in the truths which the 
experience and opinions of ages or the sanctions of religion have 
approved and hallowed, and the course of her natural duties can 
seldom or never lead her to search after those before hidden. The 
disposition in her to receive the solemn and saving truths of Chris- 
tianity with more readiness, than the scoffs or sophistry of atheism 
and error, assures us that rising generations shall learn in their earliest 
and most susceptible years, that knowledge which is of eternal im- 
portance, and that the tender twig shall receive a bent, which shall 
grow with its growth and strengthen with its strength, till maturity has 
fixed its character. The mighty and immeasurable influence which 
mothers exert on the character of an age or a nation must itself be 
swayed by religious principle, or it will prove a pestilential miasma, 
poisoning every breath and tainting the whole moral atmosphere. 
Religious principle early implanted with the solicitude of tender affec- 
tion, and watered with fervent prayer, will not be fruitless ; it will 
at least operate as a restraint from sin ; and, in general, a much hap- 
pier result may be expected, Few are so far sunk in iniquity as 



VI PREFACE. 

wholly to forget the lessons of their childhood. This is beautifully 
illustrated in the familiar story which an eminently good man told of 
himself; that when he was a boy, his mother used to call him to her 
side at evening, and placing her hand on his forehead, pray over him 
and for him, teaching him also such prayers as suited his age. The 
mother died, and the boy, as he grew up to manhood, mixing with 
the gay and busy world, turned aside from the ways in which that 
parent had led him, and gave himself up to the pleasures of sin. 
But wherever he went, in every scene of gayety or splendor, or vice, 
he always seemed to feel, as in childhood, the gentle pressure of that 
cold hand on his burning brow, reminding him of prayer ; till at 
last the memory of that mother's early culture, aided by the Spirit 
of God striving with him, turned him back to the forsaken ways of 
wisdom, and those low whispered prayers that fell upon his ear in 
childhood, came to his heart with a more convincing eloquence than 
all the thunders of homiletic theology. 

Our age has produced many bright examples of female excel- 
lence, in a literary as well as a religious point of view, who have 
not only trod the paths of science, but have devoted their time and 
employed their talents in imparting instruction to all ranks of society; 
thus consecrating their endowments to the service of him, who so 
bountifully bestowed them. 

It is remarked by our celebrated moralist, Dr. Johnson, " That 
there has scarcely passed a life, of which a judicious and faithful 
narrative would not have been useful." If such a remark is gener- 
ally applicable, much more is it appropriate to the subjects of grace. 
To observe the past conduct of others may be very useful to pilot 
us through life, by shewing the rocks upon which they split ; but 
the history of the heirs of glory is full of instruction as well as ad- 
monition ; it teaches us how to enjoy prosperity, to support adversi- 
ty, to improve affliction ; and, above all, guides our feet to those 
heavenly mansions where there are joys unspeakable, and everlast- 
ing pleasures. 

The varied circumstances and situations in life of the subjects of 
these Memoirs cause a great diversity in their history; some are in- 
stances of early maturity in the divine life, and were transplanted 
into their native soil in the bloom of youth ; others were removed in 
the midst of active useiulness, ■ and some were gathered into the 



PREFACE, V1J 

heavenly garner in ilie evening of life, as shocks of corn fully ripe ; 
some were among the rich and noble, others humble and obscure ; 
some of great talents, cultivated minds, and liberal education ; others 
plain and unlettered ; but the same point is discernible in all — ex- 
perimental, vital religion, manifesting itself in holiness of life and 
conversation. 

The work which afforded the materials for the first half of this 
volume was Burder's Memoirs of Eminently Pious Women of the 
British Empire, a book of high reputation, from which have been 
extracted such of the most valuable memoirs as the limits of this 
volume would admit. The second part of this volume is a compi- 
lation from various sources, in which it has been attempted to in- 
clude sketches of those who have been most highly distinguished 
for piety and usefulness in our country. The list, however, is by no 
means complete ; and in the course of the tedious and laborious re- 
searches which the Editor has been compelled to make in the prep- 
aration of the work, a large mass of materials has been brought to 
light, which, if the present volume should be well received, will 
probably hereafter be given to the world in an improved form, with 
suitable illustrations. 

The Editor considers the following Memoirs as exhibiting an in- 
teresting picture of genuine Christianity, but certainly does not hold 
himself responsible for all the sentiments and expressions thus re- 
corded. He would discard every thing which is contrary to godli- 
ness, built on sound scriptural knowledge, and a steady, regular 
walk ; and judges the best evidences of a state of salvation to be 
those which are found in holy dispositions and correspondent de- 
portment. D. F. B^ 

New Haven, May, 1833, 



MEMOIRS 



OF 



EMINENTLY PIOUS WOMEN. 



LADY JANE GREY, 

OTHERWISE LADY JANE DUDLEY, OR QUEEN JANE; SHE HAVING BEEN PRO- 
CLAIMED QUEEN OF ENGLAND UPON THE DEMISE, AND IN PURSUANCE OF 
THE APPOINTMENT, OF HER COUSIN KING EDWARD THE SIXTH. 



Lady Jane Grey was of a very noble stock. Her father, Henry 
Grey, Marquis of Dorset, descended in a direct line from Sir Thom- 
as Grey, knight of the garter, Lord Harrington, in right of his wife, 
and created Marquis of Dorset by Edward the Fourth, who married 
his mother. Her mother was Lady Frances Brandon, the eldest of 
the two surviving daughters of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, by 
Mary, Queen Dowager of France, youngest daughter of King Hen- 
ry the Seventh, and sister to King Henry the Eighth. 

Lady Jane very early in life gave astonishing proofs of the great- 
ness of her mind ; and though there was very little difference in age 
between her and King Edward the Sixth,* who was thought almost 
a miracle, yet in learning she was not only equal to him, but his su- 
perior. Her person was extremely pleasing ; but the beauties of her 
mind were still more engaging. She had great abilities, and greater 
virtues ; and, as Bishop Burnet says of her, " She was the wonder 
and delight of all that knew her." 

Female accomplishments were not improbably the first part of her 
education. Her genius appeared in the performances of her needle, 
and in the beautiful character in which she wrote. She played ad- 
mirably on various instruments of music, and accompanied them with 



* We cannot exactly ascertain the time of her birth. Mr. Fuller represents her 
as eighteen when she suffered ; and Sir Thomas Chaloner, as but very little beyond 
that age. If so, it is but counting back eighteen years from February 12, 1553 — 4, 
when she was beheaded, and we shall fix her birth in the latter end of the year 
1535, or the beginning of the year 1536. — Mr. Foxe expressly says, that there was 
little difference in age between her and Edward the Sixth, who was born October 
12, 1537. 



10 MEMOIRS OF 

a voice exquisitely sweet in itself, and assisted by all the graces which 
art could bestow. 

Her father, the Marquis of Dorset, had himself a tincture of let- 
ters, and w T as a patron of learned men. He had two chaplains, 
Harding and Aylmer, both eminent for their literature, whom he em- 
ployed as tutors to his daughter. Under their instructions she made 
a most extraordinary proficiency. She spoke and wrote her own 
language with peculiar accuracy ; and it is said, that the French, Ital- 
ian, Latin, and especially the Greek tongues, were as natural to her 
as her own ; for she not only understood them perfectly, but wrote 
them with the utmost freedom ; and this, not in the opinion of super- 
ficial judges, but of Mr. Ascham, and Dr. Aylmer ; men who, in 
point of veracity, were as much above suspicion, as in respect of 
abilities they were incapable of being deceived ; men, who were, for 
their learning, the wonder of their own times, and of ours : the form- 
er, famous for Roman accuracy ; the latter, one of the ablest critics 
in those learned days. She was also versed in Hebrew, Chaldee, 
and Arabic, and all this when she was in a manner a child in age. 
She was remarkable for a sedateness of temper, a quickness of ap- 
prehension, and a solidity of judgment, which enabled her not only 
to become the mistress of languages, but of sciences ; so that she 
thought, reasoned, and spoke upon subjects of great importance in a 
manner which greatly surprised even persons of the best judgment 
and abilities. And yet she was in no respect elated by these extra- 
ordinary endowments ; but was remarkably gentle, humble, and mod- 
est in her demeanor. 

Her parents, as appears from her own account, were both of them 
strangely severe in their behavior towards her ; and as she was nat- 
urally very fond of literature, that fondness was much heightened, as 
well by the severity of her parents, as by the gentleness of her tutor, 
Aylmer ; and, when mortified and confounded by the unmerited chi- 
dings of her parents, she returned with double pleasure to the lessons 
of her learned preceptor ; and sought in Demosthenes and Plato, her 
favorite authors, that delight which was denied her in all the other 
scenes of life, in which she very little mingled, and seldom with any 
satisfaction. 

Her alliance with the crown, as well as the great favor in which 
the Marquis of Dorset stood with Edward the Sixth, necessarily 
brought her sometimes to court, where she received particular marks 
of the young king's esteem, who was nearly, as observed before, of 
the same age with herself, and who took great pleasure in her con- 
versation. But for the most part of her time she seems to have con- 
tinued at her father's seat, at Broadgate, in Leicestershire, where she 
was with her beloved books in the summer season of 1550, when 
the famous Roger Ascham* paid her a visit, as we are informed from 

* Roger Ascham, Esq., two years tutor to the Princess, afterwards Queen Elizabeth. 



LADY JANE (iREY. 11 

himself. " Before I went into Germany," says he, " I came to 
Broadgate, in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble lady, 
Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholden. Her par- 
ents, the duke and dutchess, with all the household, gentlemen and 
gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her cham- 
ber reading Phoedo Platonis in Greek, and that with as much de- 
light, as some gentlemen would read a merry tale in Boccace. Af- 
ter salutation, and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her why 
she should lose such pastime in the park ? Smiling, she answered 
me ; ' I wist all their sport in the park is but a shadow, to that pleas- 
ure that I find in Plato. Alas ! good folk, they never felt what true 
pleasure meant.' — 'And how came you, madam,' quoth I, ' to this 
deep knowledge of pleasure ? And what did chiefly allure you unto 
it, seeing not many women, but very few men have attained there- 
unto?' 'I will tell you,' quoth she, 'and tell you a truth which per- 
chance ye will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God 
gave me, is, that he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gen- 
tle a schoolmaster ; for when I am in the presence either of father or 
mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, 
be merry, or sad, be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing any thing 
else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, 
even so perfectly as God made the world ; or else I am so sharply 
taunted ; so cruelly threatened ; yea, presently sometimes with pinch- 
es, nips, and bobs, and other ways, which I will not name for the 
honor I bear them, so without measure misordered, that I think my- 
self in hell till time come that I must go to Mr. Aylmer,* who teach- 
eth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learn- 
ing, that I think all the time nothing, while I am with him. And 
when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because whatsoever I 
do else but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misli- 
king unto me. And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, 
and bringeth daily to me more pleasure, and more, that in respect of 
it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and troubles unto 
me.' — I remember," adds Mr. Ascham, " this talk gladly, both be- 
cause it is so worthy of memory, and because also it was the last talk 
I ever had, and the last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy 
lady." 

What a speech was here from so young a lady ! What reader is 
not melted with it ! What a fine taste, and what a noble and enriched 
mind are here discovered ! Mr. Ascham appears (and where is the 
wonder ?) to have been deeply affected with this interview, and to 
have retained a most pleasant and honorable remembrance of it. In 
a letter written the December following to his friend Sturmius, hav- 
ing informed him that he had had the honor and happiness of being 



* Dr. John A j liner, afterwards Bishop of London. 



12 MEMOIRS OF 

admitted to converse familiarly with this young lady, and that she 
had written a very elegant Latin letter to him, he proceeds to men- 
tion this visit at Broadgate, and his consequent surprise at what oc- 
cured there, not without some degree of rapture. Thence he takes 
occasion to observe, that she both spoke and wrote Greek to admira- 
tion, and that she had promised to write him a letter in that language 
upon condition that he would send her one first from the empe- 
ror's court.* But this rapture rose much higher, while he was com- 
posing a letter addressed to herself, in the month following. There, 
speaking of his interview, he assures her, " That among all the 
agreeable varieties he had met with in his travels abroad, nothing had 
occurred to raise his admiration like that incident in the preceding 
summer, when he found her, a young maiden, by birth so noble, in 
the absence of her tutor, and in the sumptuous house of her most 
noble father, at a time too when all the rest of the family, both male 
and female, were regaling themselves abroad with the pleasures of 
the chase, I found," continues he, "the divine virgin diligently study- 
ing the divine Phcedo of the divine Plato, in the original Greek. 
Happier certainly in this respect than in being descended, both on 
the father's and mother's side, from kings and queens." He then 
puts her in mind " of the Greek epistle she had promised him, and 
prompted her also to write another to his friend Sturmius, that what 
he had said of her, wherever he came, might be rendered credible 
by such authentic evidence." 

If Lady Jane received this letter in the country, yet it is probable 
that she did not stay there long after, since some changes happened 
in the family, which it is not unlikely brought her to town, for her 
maternal uncles, Henry and Charles Brandon, both dying at Bugden, 
the Bishop of Lincoln's palace, of the sweating sickness, her father 
was created Duke of Suffolk, in October, 1551 ; Dudley, Earl of 
Warwick, being also created Duke of Northumberland at the same 
time. 

These Dukes of Suffolk and Northumberland, upon the fall of the 
Duke of Somerset, having reached to the pinnacle of power, upon 
the decline of the king's (Edward the Sixth) health, 1553, began to 
contrive how to prevent that reverse of fortune they foresaw must 
happen upon his demise. To accomplish this end, no other method 
was judged effectual but a change in the succession to the crown, and 
the transferring it into their own families. The Lady Jane was des- 
tined to the principal part in this intended revolution ; nay, in reality, 
the whole of it centered in her. Those most excellent and amiable 
qualities, which had rendered her dear to all who had the happiness 
of knowing her, joined with her near affinity to the king, subjected 



* Aschani's Epist. lib. i. epist. 4. It is to be observed, tbat Mr. Ascham, at the 
time of his making his visit to Lady Jane, was going to London, to attend Sir Rich- 
ard Morrison on his embassy to the Emperor Charles the Fifth, in Germany 



LADY JANE GREY. 13 

her to become the chief tool of an ambition notoriously not her own. 
On this very account she was married to the Lord Guilford Dudley, 
fourth son of the Duke of Northumberland, without any discovery 
to her of the real design of the match, which was celebrated with 
great pomp in the latter end of May, 1553, so much to the king's 
satisfaction, that he largely contributed to the expenses of it from 
the royal wadrobe. 

But the magnificence and splendor attending their nuptials was the 
last gleam of joy that shone in the palace of King Edward, who 
grew so weak in a few days after, that the Duke of Northumberland 
thought it high time to carry his project into execution. According- 
ly, in the beginning of June, he communicated the matter to the 
young monarch, and having first made all such colorable objections 
as the affair would admit against his majesty's two sisters, Mary and 
Elizabeth ; he observed, that the Lady Jane, who was of the royal 
line, was a person of extraordinary qualities ; that her zeal for the 
Reformation was unquestioned ; that nothing could be more accept- 
able to the nation than the prospect of such a princess ; and, that in 
this case he was bound to set aside all partialities of blooa 1 , and neai- 
ness of relation, which were inferior considerations, and ought to be 
over-ruled by the public good. To corroborate and secure the suc- 
cess of this discourse, care was taken to place about the king those 
who should make it their business to touch frequently upon this sub- 
ject, enlarge upon the accomplishments of Lady Jane, and describe 
her with all imaginable advantages. In the result of the king's af- 
fections standing for this disposition of the crown, he yielded to 
overlook his sisters, and set aside his father's will. Agreeably to 
which a deed of settlement being drawn up in form by the judges, 
was signed by his majesty, and all the lords of the council. 

This difficult affair being accomplished, and the letters patent hav- 
ing passed the seals before the close of the month, the next step was 
to concert the properest method for carrying this settlement into ex- 
ecution ; and till this was done, to keep it as secret as possible. To 
this end the Duke of Northumberland formed a project, which, if it 
had succeeded, might have made all things easy and secure. He 
directed letters to the Lady Mary, in her brother's name, requiring 
her attendance at Greenwich, where the court then was ; and she 
had got within a half a day's journey of the place when King Ed- 
ward expired, July 6, 1553; but having timely notice of his decease, 
she escaped the snare which had been so artfully laid for her. 

The two Dukes, Suffolk and Northumberland, found it necessary 
to conceal the king's death, that they might have some time to gain 
the City of London, and get the consent of Lady Jane, who was so 
far from having any concern in the business, that as yet she was un- 
acquainted with the steps which had been taken to procure her the 
frown. At this juncture the Princess Mary sent a letter to the 
privy counsel, in which, though she did not take the title of queen. 



14 MEMOIRS OF 

yet she clearly asserted her right to the throne, and took notice of 
the concealment of her brother's death, and of the practices into 
which they had since entered ; intimating that there was still room 
for reconciliation, and that if they complied with their duty in pro- 
claiming her queen, she would forgive and even forget what was 
past. But, in answer to her letter, they insisted upon the indubita- 
ble right of Lady Jane, and their own unalterable fidelity to her as 
their queen, to whom they urged her to submit. 

These previous steps being taken, and the Tower and city of Lon- 
don secured, the council quitted Greenwich and came to London : 
and on Monday, July the 10th, in the forenoon, the two last-men- 
tioned dukes repaired to Durham House, where the Lady Jane re- 
sided with her husband, as part of Northumberland's family. There 
the duke of Suffolk with much solemnity opened to his daughter the 
disposition the late king had made of his crown by letters patent, the 
clear sense the privy council had of her right, the consent of the 
magistrates and citizens of London ; and, in conclusion, himself and 
Northumberland fell on their knees, and paid their homage to her as 
Queen of England. The poor lady, somewhat astonished at their 
discourse, but not at all affected with their reasons, or in the least 
elevated by such unexpected honors, returned them an answer 
to this effect : " That the laws of the kingdom and natural right 
standing for the king's sisters, she would beware of burdening her 
weak conscience with a yoke which did belong to them ; that 
she understood the infamy of those who had permitted the violation 
of right to gain a sceptre ; that it were to mock God and deride jus- 
tice, to scruple at the stealing of a shilling, and not at the usurpa- 
tion of a crown. Besides," said she, " I am not so young, nor so 
little read in the guiles of fortune, to suffer myself to be taken by 
them. If she enrich any, it is but to make them the subject of her 
spoil ; if she raise others, it is but to pleasure herself with their ruin ; 
what she adored yesterday, is to-day her pastime : and if I now per- 
mit her to adorn and crown me, I must to-morrow suffer her to crush 
and tear me to pieces. Nay, with what crown doth she present me? 
A crown which hath been violently and shamefully wrested from 
Catharine of Arragon, made more unfortunate by the punishment of 
Anne Boleyne, and others that wore it after her, and why then would 
you have me add my blood to theirs, and be the third victim from whom 
this fatal crown may be ravished with the head that wears it ? But 
in case it should not prove fatal to me, and that all its venom were 
consumed, if fortune should give me warranties of her constancy, 
should I be well advised to take upon me those thorns, which would 
dilacerate, though not kill me outright ? To burden myself with a 
yoke which would not fail to torment me, though I were assured not 
to be strangled with it ? My liberty is better than the chain you 
proffer me, with what precious stones soever it be adorned, or of 
what gold soever framed. I will not exchange my peace for honor- 



LADY JANE GREY. 15 

able and precious jealousies, for magnificent and glorious fetters. 
And if you Jove me sincerely, and in good earnest, you will rather 
wish me a secure and quiet fortune, though mean, than an exalted 
situation exposed to the wind, and followed by some dismal fall." 

But notwithstanding the prudence, goodness, and eloquence of 
this speech, she was at length prevailed upon by the exhortations of 
her father, the intercession of her mother, the artful persuasions of 
the Duke of Northumberland, and, above all, the earnest desires of 
her husband, whom she tenderly loved, to yield her assent to what 
had been already, and what was still to be done.* And thus, with 
a heavy, disinclined heart, she suffered herself to be conveyed to the 
Tower, where she entered with all the state of a queen, attended by 
the principal nobility; and, what was very extraordinary, with her 
train supported by the Dutchess of Suffolk, her mother ; in whom, 
if in any of this line, the right of succession lay. About six o'clock 
in the afternoon she was proclaimed queen with all due solemnities 
in the city. The same day, also, she assumed the royal title, and 
afterwards proceeded to exercise some acts of sovreignty. But the 
royalty of this worthy lady was of very short duration, a sunbeam of 
glory, which was soon utterly extinguished in clouds and darkness ; 
for on the 19th of the same month, the Princess Mary was proclaim- 
ed queen in London, so that the reign of this lady was only a va- 
por of about nine days continuance. 

As soon as the Duke of Suffolk, who now resided with his daugh- 
er in the Tower, was informed of the Princess Mary's proclamation, 
he went to his daughter's apartments, and in the softest terms he 
could acquainted her that matters had taken such a different turn, 
that laying aside the state and dignity of a queen, she must fall back 
into the condition of a private person. To which intelligence she, 
with a composed and serene countenance, made the following an- 
swer. " Sir, I better brook this message than that of my advance- 
ment to royalty. Out of obedience to you, and to my mother, I have 



* The mention of the crown, says Bishop Burnet, when her father, with her 
father-in-law, saluted her queen, did rather heighten her disorder upon the king's 
death. She said, she knew by the laws of the kingdom, and by natural right, the 
crown was to go to the king's sisters, so that she was afraid of burdening her con- 
science, by assuming that which belonged to them; and that she was unwilling to 
enrich herself by the spoils of others. But they told her, that all that had been 
done was according to the law, to which all the judges and counsellors had set their 
hands. This, joined with their persuasions, and the importunity of her husband, at 
length prevailed with her to submit, of which her father-in-law afterwards said in 
council, that she was rather by enticement of the counsellors, and force, made to 
accept of the crown, than came to it by her own seeking and request. — Burnet's 
History of the Reformation, Vol. II. p. 235. 

Lady Jane, says the writer of the British Biography, was altogether uninfluenc- 
ed by any ambitious views, and the settlement of the succession was by no means 
agreeable to her: Indeed it does not appear that she was at all consulted about it, 
either by her father, or by the Duke of Northumberland, nor does she seem even to 
have been acquainted with it till after King Edward's decease. — Vol. II. p. 420. 



16 MEMOIR OF 

grievously sinned, and offered violence lo myself. I now willingly, 
and as obeying the motions of my soul, relinquish the crown, and 
endeavor to salve those faults committed by others if at least so great 
a fault can be salved, by a willing relinquishment, and ingenuous ac- 
knowledgment of them." 

Thus ended her reign ; but with the end of her reign commenced 
the severest afflictions. She who had been lately a queen in the 
Tower, soon found her palace turned into a prison. She also saw 
the father of her husband, with all his family, and many of the nobility 
and gentry, in the same circumstances, for supporting her claim to the 
crown ; and this grief must have been considerably increased by his 
being so soon after brought to the block. Before the end of the 
month she had also the sad mortification of finding her own father, the 
Duke of Suffolk, in the same circumstances of imprisonment with 
herself. On the third of November, in the same year, 1553, she 
and her husband were carried from the Tower to Guildhall, with 
Archbishop Cranmer, and others, and was there arraigned and con- 
victed of high treason by Judge Morgan, who pronounced sentence 
of death upon them. However, the strictness of her own and her 
husband's confinement was mitigated in December, by a permission 
to take the air in the queen's garden, and other little indigencies. 
These circumstances might give some gleam of hope : but Queen 
Mary at length determined to take ofT both Lady Jane and her hus- 
band. The fatal news made no great impression upon her, the bit- 
terness of death was past, she had long expected it, and was so well 
prepared for the worst, that she was very little discomposed. 

What has been already related concerning the subject of our Me- 
moirs, affords us strong proofs of this lady's fine understanding, her 
most uncommon proficiency in learning, and her most noble and ex- 
cellent spirit, that ascended to the highest elevation of human life 
with sincere reluctance, and descended from it with as sincere pleas- 
ure. But the brighter part of her character, her piety and goodness 
are still behind ; of which, that we may have a clear and full view, 
let us particularly attend in the sunset of life, and collect, if I may 
so speak, every ray which adorned her in her preparation for death, 
and even in her last moments. 

Lady Jane was early instructed in the principles of the Reformed 
Religion, which she seriously and attentively studied, and for which 
she was extremely zealous : and this, together with other excellent 
and amiable accomplishments, greatly endeared her to King Edward. 
Her dislike of popery, particularly in one of its worst abominations, 
that of idolatry, was shown, as it is credibly reported of her, when 
she was very young. Upon a visit to the Princess Mary, at New- 
Hall, in Essex, she took a walk with the Lady Anne Wharton. Hap- 
pening to pass by the chapel, Lady Anne made a low courtesy to 
the host; at which Lady Jane testified some surprise, and asked 
whether the Princess Mary was there? Lady Anne answered, " No : 



LADY JANE GREY. 17 

but I made my courtesy," said she, " to Him who made us all." 
"Why," replied Lady Jane, " how can that which hath been made 
by the baker be He who hath made us all ?" This speech of hers, it 
is said, being carried to the Princess Mary, gave her a dislike to the 
Lady Jane, which she retained ever after. 

But her attachment to the Reformed Religion, her knowledge of 
it, and her capacity to defend it, are more especially evinced in a 
conversation between herself and him who was afterwards Dr. Feck- 
enham, otherwise Howman.* who was sent by the queen but two 
days before her death, to discourse with Lady Jane, and to use his 
best endeavors to reconcile her to the Church of Rome. 

The conversation was to the following effect. 

Feckenham. — Madam, I lament your heavy case, and yet I doubt 
not you bear out this sorrow of yours with a constant and patient 
mind. 

Lady Jane. — You are welcome to me, sir, if your coming be to 
give Christian exhortation. And as for my heavy case, I thank God 
I do so little lament it, that rather I account the same for a more 
manifest declaration of God's favor towards me, than ever he showed 
me at any time before. And, therefore, there is no cause why you, 
or other which bear me good will, should lament, or be grieved with 
this my case, being a thing so profitable for my soul's health. 

Feckenham. — I am here come to you at this present, sent from 
the queen and her council, to instruct you in the true doctrine of the 
right faith ; although I have so great confidence in you, that I shall 
have, I trust, little need to labor with you much therein. 

Lady Jane. — Forsooth, I heartily thank the queen's highness, who 
is not unmindful of her humble subject, and I hope likewise that you 
no less will do your duty therein, both truly and faithfully, according 
to that you were sent for. 

Feckenham. — What is then required of a Christian man ? 

Lady Jane. — That he should believe in God the Father, the Son, 
and the Holy Ghost ; three persons, and one God. 

Feckenham. — What ! is there nothing else to be required, or 
looked for, in a Christian, but to believe in him ? 

Lady Jane. — Yes, we must love him with all our heart, with all 
our soul, and with all our mind, and our neighbor as ourself. 

Feckenham. — Why then faith justifieth not, nor saveth not? 



* John de Feckenham was so called because he was horn in a cottage near the 
forest of Feckenham, in Worcestershire, his right name heing Howman. He was 
first admitted into Evesham monastery, and at eighteen years of age he was sent to 
Gloucester College, in Oxford. After studying there some years, and taking his 
degree of bachelor of divinity, he became chaplain to Bonner, Bishop of London ; 
and on Queen Mary's accession, was made her chaplain. In May, 1556, he was 
made doctor of divinity by the University of Oxford ; and in September following, 
appointed Abbot of Westminster Abbey. He is said to have been a generous and 
benevolent man. 

3 



lo MEMOIRS OF 

Lady Jane. — Yes, verily ; faith, as Paul saitb, only justifieth. 

Feckenham. — Why St. Paul saith, If I have all faith, without love 
it is nothing. 

Lady Jane. — True it is ; for how can I love him whom I trust not? 
or how can I trust him whom I love not ? Faith and love go together, 
and yet love is comprehended in faith. 

Feckenham. — How shall we love our neighbor ? 

Lady Jane. — To love our neighbor is to feed the hungry, to clothe 
the naked, and give drink to the thirsty, and to do to him as we 
would do to ourselves. 

Feckenham. — Why, then it is necessary unto salvation to do good 
works also, and it is not sufficient only to believe ? 

Lady Jane. — I deny that ; and affirm that faith only saveth ; but 
it is meet for a Christian, in token that he followeth his master Christ, 
to do good works, yet may we not say that they profit to our salva- 
tion ; for when we have done all, yet we be unprofitable servants, 
and faith only in Christ's blood saveth us. 

Feckenham. — How many sacraments are there ? 

Lady Jane. — Two ; the one the sacrament of Baptism, and the 
other the sacrament of the Lord's Supper. 

Feckenham. — No, there are seven. 

Lady Jane. — By what scripture find you that ? 

Feckenham. — Well, we will talk of that hereafter. But what is 
signified by your two sacraments ? 

Lady Jane. — By the sacrament of Baptism I am washed with 
water, and regenerated by the Spirit, and that washing is a token to 
me that I am the child of God. The sacrament of the Lord's Sup- 
per offered unto me is a sure seal and testimony that I am, by the 
blood of Christ which he shed for me on the cross, made partaker of 
the everlasting kingdom. 

Feckenham. — Why, what do you receive in that sacrament ? Do 
you not receive the very body and blood of Christ ? 

Lady Jane. — No, surely, I do not so believe. I think that at the 
supper I neither receive flesh nor blood, but bread and wine ; which 
bread, when it is broken, and which wine, when it is drunken, putteth 
me in remembrance how that for my sins the body of Christ was 
broken, and his blood shed on the cross, and with that bread and 
wine 1 receive the benefits that came by the breaking of his body, 
and shedding his blood for our sins on the cross. 

' Feckenham. — Why, doth not Christ speak these words, Take, eat, 
this is my body? Require you any plainer words? Doth he not 
say, it is his body ? 

Lady Jane.— I grant he saith so ; and so he saith, I am the vine, 
I am the door : but he is never the more the door nor the vine. Doth 
not St. Paul say, He calleth things that are not, as though they were ; 
God forbid that I should say that I eat the very natural body and 
blood of Christ ; for then either I should pluck away my redemption, 



LADY JANE GHEY. 10 

or else there were two bodies, or two Christs. One body was tor- 
mented on the cross, and if they did eat another body, then had he 
two bodies ; or if his body were eaten, then was it not broken on the 
cross; or if it were broken on the cross, .it was not eaten of his 
disciples. 

Feckenham. — Why, is it not as possible that Christ by his power 
could make his body both to be eaten and broken, and to be born of 
a woman without man, as to walk upon the sea having a body, and 
other such miracles as he wrought by his power only ? 

Lady Jane. — Yes verily. If God would have done at his supper 
any miracle, he might have done so ; but T say that then he minded 
no work nor miracle, but only to break his body, and to shed his 
blood on the cross for our sins. But I pray you to answer me to this 
one question, Where was Christ when he said, Take, eat, this is my 
body ? Was he not at the table when he said so ? He was at that 
time alive, and suffered not till the next day. What took he but 
bread ? What brake he but bread ? Look what he took he brake, 
and look what he brake he gave, and look what he gave they did 
cat ; and yet all this time he himself was alive, and at supper before 
his disciples, or else they were deceived. 

Feckenham. — You ground your faith upon such authors as both 
say and unsay with a breath, and not upon the church, to whom ye 
ought to give credit. 

Lady Jane. — No, I ground my faith on God's word, and not upon 
the church ; for if the church be a good church, the faith of the 
church must be tried by God's word, and not God's word by the 
church, neither my faith. Shall I believe the church because of an- 
tiquity ? or shall I give credit to the church because it taketh away 
from me the half part of the Lord's supper, and will not let any man 
receive it in both kinds ? which thing if they deny to us, then deny 
they to us part of our salvation. And I say it is an evil church, and 
not the spouse of Christ, but the spouse of the devil, that altereth the 
Lord's supper, and both taketh from it and addeth to it. To that 
church, say I, God will add plagues to it, and from that church 
will he take their part out of the book of life. Do they learn that of 
St. Paul, when he ministered to the Corinthians in both kinds? Shall 
I believe this church ? God forbid. 

Feckenham. — That was done for a good intent of the church, to 
avoid an heresy that sprung in it. 

Lady Jane. — Why, shall the church alter God's will and ordinance 
for a good intent ? How did King Saul ? 

The Lord God defend. 

With these and such like persuasions, says Mr. Foxe, from whom 
this conference is transcribed,* he would have had her lean to the 



Foxe's Acts and Monuments, Vol, III. p. 31, 32 



20 



MEMOIRS OF 



church, but it would not be. There were many more things where- 
of they reasoned, but these were the chief. After this Mr. Fecken- 
ham took his leave, saying, " That he was sorry for her ; for I am 
sure," saith he, " we two shall never meet." — " True it is," said La- 
dy Jane, " that we shall never meet, except God turn your heart ; 
for I am assured unless you repent, and turn to God, you are in an 
evil case ; and I pray God, in the bowels of his mercy, to send you 
his Holy Spirit, for he hath given you his great gift of utterance, if it 
pleased him also to open the eyes of your heart."* 

It has been mentioned before, that Lady Jane's father had two 
chaplains, Messrs. Harding and Aylmer, who were also her precep- 
tors. Mr. Harding it seems was, in King Edward's days, a zeal- 
ous protestant, and was not only a preacher of the Reformed Reli- 
gion, but was very fervent in animating its professors to abide by it in 
the face of all persecution and danger. But, upon the return of po- 
pery in Queen Mary's reign, he renounced his protestantism, and be- 
came a papist. f Upon his apostasy Lady Jane wrote him a letter, 
which will abundantly shew, that however he was qualified to instruct 
her in the matters of learning, she was no less capable to instruct him 
in the greater concerns of religion. Should the letter appear to be 
rather too severe and poignant, let it be remembered, that Lady Jane 
must have known Mr. Harding well, and was warranted by her inti- 
mate acquaintance to deal more freely with him ; that she might prob- 
ably have heard him often represent the Romish errors, and guard 
others against their infection ; and that the good lady might well have 
a keen edge set upon her mind against popery, as it is in itself such 
a dreadful corruption, and indeed subversion of the Christian faith, 
and in her days -made such cruel slaughter of the saints of God, for 
their testimony to the truth as it is in Jesus. Lady Jane's letter is as 
follows : 

" So often as 1 call to mind the dreadful and fearful saying of God, 
that he which layeth hold on the plough and turneth back, is not meet 
for the kingdom of heaven ; and on the other side the comfortable 
words of our Savior Christ to all those that, forsaking themselves, do 
follow him, I cannot but marvel at thee, and lament thy case, which 
seemed formerly to be the lively member of Christ, but now the de- 
formed imp of the devil ; formerly the beautiful temple of God, but 
now the stinking and filthy kennel of Satan ; formerly the unspotted 



* We must conceive that this was understood as it was spoken, as flowing from a 
religious zeal, and not from any distaste of contradiction, or any dislike to his per- 
son ; since we find tha': Mr. Feckenham, far from deserting, attended her to the 
very last, and that the Lady Jane shewed a very proper sense of his attention and 
respect for her in the sight and hearing of all who were upon or near the scaffold. — 
Biographia Brltannica, Vol. IV. p. 2421. 

t It appears that Mr. Harding, after his embracing popery, persisted in its profes- 
sion to the end of his days, and accordingly we find him afterwards engaged on the 
popish side, as a writer against Bishop Jewel. 



LADY JANE GREY. 21 

spouse of Christ, but now the shameless paramour of Antichrist ; 
formerly my faithful brother, but now a stranger and apostate ; some- 
time a stout Christian soldier, but now a cowardly runaway. Yea, 
when I consider these things, I cannot but speak unto thee, and cry 
out upon thee, thou seed of Satan, and not of Judah, whom the 
devil hath deceived, the world hath beguiled, and the desire of life 
subverted, and made thee from a Christian an infidel. Wherefore hast 
thou taken the testament of the Lord in thy mouth ? wherefore hast 
thou preached the law, and the will of God to others ? wherefore hast 
thou instructed others to be strong in Christ, when thou thyself dost 
now so shamefully shrink, and so horribly abuse the testament and 
law of the Lord ? when thou thyself preachest not to steal, yet most 
abominably stealest, not from men but from God, and committing 
most heinous sacrilege, robbest Christ thy Lord of his right mem- 
bers, thy body and soul, and choosest rather to live miserably with 
shame to the world, than to die, and gloriously with honor reign with 
Christ, in whom even in death is life. Why dost thou now show 
thyself most weak, when indeed thou oughtest to be most strong ? 
The strength of a fort is unknown before the assault, but thou 
yieldest thy hold before any battery be made ! 

" Oh wretched and unhappy man ! what art thou but dust and 
ashes ? And wilt thou resist thy Maker that fashioned and framed 
thee ? Wilt thou now forsake him that called thee from the custom- 
gathering among the Romish antichristians, to be an ambassador and 
messenger of his eternal word ? He that first framed thee, and since 
thy first creation and birth preserved thee, nourished and kept thee, 
yea, and inspired thee with the spirit of knowledge, (I cannot say 
of grace,) shall he not now possess thee ? Darest thou deliver up 
thyself to another, being not thine own, but his ? How canst thou, 
having knowledge, or how darest thou neglect the law of the Lord, 
and follow the vain traditions of men, and whereas thou hast been a 
public professor of his name, become now a defacer of his glory? 
Wilt thou refuse the true God, and worship the invention of man, 
the golden calf, the whore of Babylon, the Romish religion, the 
abominable idol, the most wicked mass ? Wilt thou torment again, 
rend and tear the most precious body of our Savior Christ with thy 
bodily and fleshly teeth ? Wilt thou take upon thee to offer up any 
sacrifice unto God for our sins, considering that Christ offered up 
himself, as Paul saith, upon the cross a living sacrifice once for all ? 
Can neither the punishment of the Israelites, which for their idolatry 
they so oft received, nor the terrible threatenings of the prophets, 
nor the curses of God's own mouth, fear thee to honor any other 
God than him ? Dost thou so regard him that spared not his dear 
and only Son for thee, so diminishing, yea, utterly extinguishing his 
glory, that thou wilt attribute the praise and honor due unto him to 
the idols, which have mouths and speak not, eyes and see not, ears 
and hear not, which shall perish with them that made them ? 



22 MEMOIRS OF 

" What saith the prophet Baruch, where he recited the Epistle of 
Jeremy, written to the captive Jews ? Did he not forewarn them 
that in Babylon they should see gods of gold, silver, wood, and stone, 
borne upon men's shoulders to cast a fear before the heathen ? But 
be not ye afraid of them, saith Jeremy, nor do as others do. But 
when you see others worship them, say you in your heart, It is thou, O 
Lord, that oughtest only to be worshipped ; for as for those gods the 
carpenter framed them, and polished them, yea, gilded are they, and 
laid over with silver, and vain things, and cannot speak. He show- 
eth, moreover, the abuse of their dealings, how the priests took off 
their ornaments, and apparelled their women withal ; how one hold- 
eth a sceptre, another a sword in his hand, and yet can they judge 
it no matter, nor defend themselves, much less any other, from either 
battle or murder, nor yet from gnawing of worms, nor any other evil 
thing. These and such like words speaketh Jeremy unto them, 
whereby he proveth them to be but vain things, and no gods. And 
at last he concludeth thus : Confounded be all they that worship 
them. They were warned by Jeremy ; and thou, as Jeremy, hast 
warned others, and art warned thyself by many scriptures in many 
places. God saith he is a jealous God, which will have all the honor, 
glory, and worship given to him only. And Christ saith, in the fourth 
of Luke, to Satan which tempted him, even to the same Satan, the 
same Beelzebub, the same devil, which hath prevailed against thee : 
It is written, said he, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him 
only shalt thou serve. 

"These and such like do prohibit thee and all Christians to wor- 
ship any other god than that which was before all worlds, and laid 
the foundations both of heaven and earth ; and wilt thou honor a 
detestable idol, invented by Romish popes, and the abominable col- 
lege of crafty cardinals ? Christ offered himself up once for all ; 
and wilt thou offer him up again daily at thy pleasure ? But thou 
wilt say, thou dost it for a good intent. Oh sink of sin ! Oh child 
of perdition ! Dost thou dream therein of a good intent, where thy 
conscience beareth thee witness of God's threatening wrath against 
thee ? How did Saul ? who, for that he disobeyed the word of the 
Lord for a good intent, was thrown from his worldly and temporal 
kingdom. Shalt thou then, that dost deface God's honor, and rob 
him of his right, inherit the eternal and heavenly kingdom ? Wilt 
thou for a good intent dishonor God, offend thy brother, and endan- 
ger thy soul ? Wilt thou for a good intent pluck Christ out of 
heaven, and make his death void, and deface the triumph of his 
cross, by offering him up daily? Wilt thou, either for fear of death 
or hope of life, deny and refuse thy God, who enriched thy poverty, 
healed thy infirmity, and yielded to thee his victory, if thou couldest 
have kept it ? Dost thou consider that the thread of thy life hang- 
eth upon him that made thee ; who can, as his will is, either twine it 
harder to last the longer, or untwine it again to break the sooner ? 



LADY JANE GREY. 23 

Dost thou not then remenber the saying of David, a notable king, to 
teach thee a miserable wretch in his 104th psalm, where he saith 
thus, When thou takest away thy spirit, O Lord, from men, they 
die, and are turned again to their dust ; but when thou lettest thy 
breath go forth, they shall be made, and thou shalt renew the face of 
the earth ? Remember the saying of Christ in the gospel, Whoso- 
ever seeketh to save his life shall lose it ; but whosoever will lose his 
life for my sake, shall find it. And in the same place, whosoever 
loveth father or mother above me, is not meet for me. He that will 
follow me, let him forsake himself, and take up his cross, and follow 
me. What cross ? The cross of infamy and shame, of misery and 
poverty, of affliction and persecution for his name's sake. Let the 
oft-falling of these heavenly showers pierce thy stony heart ! Let 
the two-edged sword of God's holy word tear asunder the sinews of 
worldly respects, even to the very marrow of thy carnal heart, that 
thou mayest once again forsake thyself, and embrace Christ; and 
like as good subjects will not refuse to hazard all in the defense of 
their earthly and temporal governor, so fly not like a white-livered 
coward from the standing wherein thy chief captain Christ hath set 
thee in array of this life. Viriliter age, confortetur cor tuum, sus- 
tinet Dominus* Fight manfully, come life, come death : the quar- 
rel is God's, and undoubtedly the victory is ours. 

" But thou wilt say, I will not break unity. What ! not the unity 
of Satan and his members ? not the unity of darkness ? the agree- 
ment of Anti-christ and his adherents ? nay, thou deceivest thyself 
with the fond imagination of such an unity as is among the enemies 
of Christ. Were not the false prophets in an unity ? Were not Jo- 
seph's brethren and Jacob's sons in an unity ? Were not the heathen, 
as the Amalekites, the Perizzites, and the Jebusites, in an unity ? 
Doth not King David testify, ' they united against the Lord.' Yea, 
thieves, murderers, conspirators, have their unity. But what unity? 
Tully saith of amity : t Amicitia non est nisi inter bonos.' But 
mark my friend, yea, friend, if thou be not God's enemy, there is 
no unity but where Christ knitteth the knot among such as He is. 
Yea, be well assured, that where his truth is resident, there it is 
verified that he himself saith, ' I have not come to send peace on 
the earth, but a sword, to set one against another, the son against 
the father, and the daughter against the mother-in-law.' Deceive 
not thyself therefore with the glittering and glorious name of unity, 
for Anti-christ hath his unity, not yet in deed, but in name. The 
agreement of ill men is not' an unity, but a conspiracy. Thou hast 
heard some threatenings, some cursings, and some admonitions out 
of the Scripture to those that love themselves above Christ. Thou 
hast heard also the sharp and biting words to those that deny him for 



'Go on manfully, let thy heart be strengthened; the Lord sustains." 



24 MEMOIRS OF 

love of life. Saith he not, * He that denies me before men, I will 
deny him before my Father in heaven ?' And to the same effect 
writeth Paul, Heb. vi. ' It is impossible,' saith he, ' that they which 
were once enlightened, and have tasted of the heavenly gift, and 
were partakers of the Holy Ghost, and have tasted of the good word 
of God, if they fall and slide away, crucifying to themselves the Son 
of God afresh, and making of him a mocking stock, should be re- 
newed again by repentance. And again,' saith he, ' if we shall wil- 
lingly sin, after we have received the knowledge of his truth, there 
is no oblation left for sin, but the terrible expectation of judgment, 
and fire, which shall devour the adversaries.' Thus St. Paul wri- 
teth, and this thou readest, and dost thou not quake and and tremble ? 

"Well, if these terrible and thundering threatenings cannot stir 
thee to cleave unto Christ and forsake the world, yet let the sweet 
consolations and promises of the Scriptures, let the example of Christ 
and his apostles, holy martyrs and confessors, encourage thee to 
take faster hold by Christ. Hear what he saith, ' Blessed are you 
when men revile you, and persecute you for my sake : rejoice, and 
be glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so persecuted they 
the prophets that were before you.' Hear what Isaiah the prophet 
saith, ' Fear not the curse of men, be not afraid of their blasphe- 
mies ; for worms and moths shall eat them up like cloth and wool, but 
my righteousness shall endure for ever, and my saving health from 
generation to generation. What art thou then,' saith he, ' that fear- 
est a mortal man, the child of man, which fadeth away like the flow- 
er, and forgettest the Lord that made thee, that spread out the heav- 
ens, and laid the foundation of the earth ? I am the Lord thy God 
that make the sea to rage, and to be still, whose name is the Lord of 
Hosts. I will put my word in thy mouth, and defend thee with the 
turning of an hand.' And our Savior Christ saith to his disciples, 
{ They shall accuse you, and bring you before princes and rulers for 
my name's sake, and some of you they shall persecute and kill : but 
fear you not,' saith he, ' nor care you what you shall say, for it is the 
Spirit of your Father that speaketh within you. Even the very 
hairs of you head are all numbered. Lay up treasure for your- 
selves,' saith he, ' where no thief cometh, nor moth corrupteth. 
Fear not them that kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul ; but 
fear him that hath power to destroy both soul and body. If ye were 
of the world, the world would love his own ; but because ye are not 
of the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the 
world hateth you.' 

" Let these and such like consolations, taken out of the Scriptures, 
strengthen you towards God. Let not the examples of holy men 
and women go out of your mind, as Daniel and the rest of the pro- 
phets, of the three children of Eleazarus, that constant father, of 
the seven of the Maccabees children, of Peter, Paul, Stephen, and 
other apostles and holy martyrs in the beginning of the church. As 



LADY JANE GREY. 25 

of good Simeon, Archbishop of Seloma, and Zetrophone, with in- 
finite others under Saphores the king of the Persians and Indians, 
who contemned all torments devised by the tyrants for their Savior's 
sake. Return, return again into Christ's war ; and as becometh a 
faithful warrior put on that armor that St. Paul teacheth to be most 
necessary for a Christian man. And above all take to you the shield 
of faith, and be you provoked by Christ's own example to withstand 
the devil, to forsake the world, and to become a true and faithful 
member of his mystical body, who spared not his own body for 
our sins. 

"Throw down yourself with the fear of his threatened vengeance, 
for this so great and heinous an offense of apostasy, and comfort your- 
self on the other part with the mercy, blood, and promise of him that 
is ready to turn unto you whensoever you turn unto him. Disdain 
not to come again with the lost son, seeing you have so wandered 
with him. Be not ashamed to turn again with him from the swill 
of strangers to the delicates of your most benign and loving Father, 
acknowledging that you have sinned against heaven and earth : against 
heaven, by staining the glorious name of God, and causing his most 
sincere and pure word to be evil spoken of through you. Against 
earth, by offending so many of your weak brethren, to whom you 
have been a stumbling-block through your sudden sliding. Be not 
abashed to come home again with Mary, and weep bitterly with Peter, 
not only with shedding the tears of your bodily eyes, but also pour- 
ing out the streams of your heart, to wash away out of the sight of 
God the filth and mire of your offensive fall. Be not ashamed to 
say with the publican, 'Lord be merciful unto me a sinner ?' Remem- 
ber the horrible history of Julian of old, and the lamentable case of 
Spyra of late, whose case, methinks, should be yet so green in your 
remembrance, that being a thing of our time, you should fear the like 
inconvenience, seeing you are fallen into the like offense. 

"Last of all, let the lively remembrance of the last day be al- 
ways before your eyes, remembering the terror that such shall be in 
at that time, with the runagates and fugitives from Christ, which set- 
ting more by the world than by heaven, more by their life, than by 
him that gave them life, did shrink, yea, did clean fall away from him 
that forsook not them ; and contrariwise, the inestimable joys prepar- 
ed for them, that fearing no peril, nor dreading death, have manful- 
ly fought, and victoriously triumphed over all power of darkness, 
over hell, death and damnation, through their most redoubted cap- 
tain Christ, who now stretcheth out his arms to receive you, ready 
to fall upon your neck and kiss you, and last of all to feast you with 
the dainties and delicacies of his own precious blood, which undoubt- 
edly, if it might stand with his determinate purpose, he would not 
wait to shed again rather than you should be lost. To whom with 
the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all honor, praise, and glory ever- 
lasting. Amen. 

4 



26 MEMOIRS OF 

" Be constant, be constant, fear not for any pain ; 

" Christ hath redeemed thee, and heaven is thy gain. ,; 

We shall next present our readers with a letter from this pious lady 
written to her father during the time of her imprisonment ; her father 
who, by his solicitations to her to take the crown, became the unhap- 
py instrument of her untimely death. 

" Father — Although it hath pleased God to hasten my death by 
you, by whom my life should rather have been lengthened, yet can 
I so patiently take it, as I yield God more hearty thanks for shorten- 
ing my woful days, than if all the world had been given unto my posses- 
sions with life lengthened to my own will. And albeit I am well as- 
sured of your impatient dolors, redoubled manifold ways, both in be- 
wailing your own woes, and especially, as I hear, my unfortunate 
state ; yet, my dear father, if I may without offense rejoice in my 
own mishaps, meseems in this I may account myself blessed, that 
washing my hands with the innocency of my fact, my guiltlesss blood 
may cry before the Lord mercy to the innocent. And yet though I 
must needs acknowledge, that being constrained, and as you wot well 
enough, and continually assayed, in taken upon me, I seemed to con- 
sent, and therein grievously offended the queen and her laws ; yet 
do 1 assuredly trust, that this my offense towards God is so much the 
less, in that, being in so royal estate as I was, mine enforced honor 
never blended with mine innocent heart. And thus, good father, I 
have opened to you the state in which I presently stand, whose death 
at hand, although to you perhaps it may seem right woful, to me 
there is nothing that can be more welcome, than from this vale of 
misery to aspire to that heavenly throne of all joy and pleasure with 
Christ our Savior : in whose steadfast faith, if it may be lawful for 
the daughter to write to the father, the Lord that hitherto hath 
strengthened you, so continue you, that at the last we may meet in 
heaven with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." 

Another letter of this lady's is preserved, which was written at the 
end of a Greek Testament, and was sent by her to her sister Catha- 
rine,* the night before Lady Jane was beheaded. 

"I have sent you here good sister Catharine, a book, which 
although it be not outwardly trimmed with gold, yet inwardly it is 
more worth than precious stones. It is the book dear sister, of the 
law of the Lord. It is his testament and last will, which he be- 
queathed unto us wretches, which shall lead you to the path of eter- 
nal joy ; and, if you with a good mind read it, and with an earnest 
mind do purpose to follow it, it shall bring you to an immortal and 
everlasting life. It shall teach you to live, and learn you to die. It 



* The Lady Jane had two sisters younger than herself; this Lady Catharine the 
eldest, and Lady Mary the younger. 



LADY JANE GREY. 



shall win you more than you should have gained by your vvoful 
father's lands : for, as if God had prospered him, you should have in- 
herited his lands ; so, if you apply diligently this book, seeking to 
direct your life after it, you shall be an inheritor of such riches, as 
neither the covetous shall withdraw from you, neither thief shall steal, 
neither yet the moths corrupt. Desire with David, good sister, to 
understand the law of the Lord God. Live still to die, that you by 
death may purchase eternal life, and trust not that the tenderness of 
your age shall lengthen your life ; for as soon if God call, goeth the 
young as the old, and labor always to learn to die, defy the world, 
deny the devil, and despise the flesh, and delight yourself only in the 
Lord. Be penitent for your sins, and yet despair not ; be strong in 
faith, and yet presume not ; and desire with St. Paul to be with 
Christ, with whom even in death there is life. Be like the good 
servant, and even at midnight be waking, lest when death cometh, 
and stealeth upon you as a thief in the night, you be with the evil 
servant found sleeping, and lest for want of oil you be found like the 
five foolish women, and like him that had not on the wedding gar- 
ment, and then ye be cast out from the marriage. Rejoice in Christ 
as I do. Follow the steps of your master Christ, and take up your 
cross. Lay your sins on his back, and always embrace him. And 
as touching my death, rejoice as I do, good sister, that I shall be de- 
livered of this corruption, and put on incorruption ; for I am assured 
that I shall, for losing of a mortal life, win an immortal life, the which 
I pray God grant you, and send you of his grace to live in his fear, 
and to die in the true Christian faith, from the which, in God's name 
I exhort you, that you never swerve, neither for hope of life, nor for 
fear of death ; for if you will deny his truth for to lengthen your life, 
God will deny you, and yet shorten your days ; and if you will cleave 
unto him, he will prolong your days, to your comfort and his glory ; 
to the which glory God bring me now, and you hereafter, when it 
pleaseth him to call you ! Fare you well, good sister, and put your 
only trust in God, who only must help you." 

We shall, in a manner, conclude the excellent composures of this 
worthy lady with a prayer drawn up by her in the time of her trouble, 
which will open to our readers the state of her mind in the near views 
of death and eternity. 

" O Lord, thou God and Father of my life, hear me poor and 
desolate woman, which flieth unto thee only in all troubles and mise- 
ries. Thou, O Lord, art the only defender and deliverer of those 
that put their trust in thee ; and therefore I, being defiled with sin, 
encumbered with afflictions, disquieted with troubles, wrapped in 
cares, overwhelmed with miseries, and grievously tormented with the 
long imprisonment of this vile mass of clay, my sinful body, do come 
unto thee, O merciful Savior, craving thy mercy and help, without the 
which so little hope of deliverance is left, that I may utterly despair 
of any liberty. Albeit it is expedient, that seeing our life slandeth 



28 



MEMOIRS OF 



upon trying, we should be visited sometime with some adversity, 
whereby we might both be tried whether we be of thy flock or no, 
and also know thee and ourselves the better ; yet thou that saidest 
thou wouldest not suffer us to be tempted above our -power, be mer- 
ciful unto me, a miserable wretch, I beseech thee, that I may neither 
be too much puffed up with prosperity, neither too much pressed 
down with adversity, lest I being too full, should deny thee, my God ; 
or being too low brought, should despair, and blaspheme thee, my 
Lord and Savior. O merciful God, consider my misery best known 
unto thee, and be thou now unto me a strong tower of defense, I 
humbly require thee. Suffer me not to be tempted above my power, 
but either be thou a deliverer to me out of this great misery, either 
else give me grace patiently to bear thy heavy hand, and sharp cor- 
rection. It was thy right hand that delivered the people of Israel out 
of the hands of Pharaoh, which, for the space of four hundred years, 
did oppress them, and keep them in bondage. Let it, therefore, 
seem good to thy fatherly goodness to deliver me, sorrowful wretch, 
for whom thy Son Christ shed his precious blood on the cross, out 
of this miserable captivity and bondage, wherein I am now. How 
long wilt thou be absent ? For ever ? Oh Lord, hast thou forgotten 
to be gracious, and hast thou shut up thy loving kindness in displeas- 
ure ? Wilt thou no more be entreated ? Is thy mercy clean gone 
for ever, and thy promise come utterly to an end for evermore ? 
Why dost thou make so long tarrying ? Shall I despair of thy mer- 
cy, O God ? Far be that from me. I am thy workmanship, created 
in Christ Jesus ; give me grace, therefore, to tarry thy leisure, and 
patiently to bear thy works, assuredly knowing, that as thou canst, so 
thou wilt deliver me, when it shall please thee, nothing doubting or 
mistrusting thy goodness towards me, for thou knowest better what is 
good for me than I do, therefore do with me in all things what thou 
wilt, and plague me what way thou wilt. Only in the mean time arm 
me, I beseech thee, with thy armor, that I may stand fast, my loins 
being girt about with verity, having on the breast plate of righteous- 
ness, and shod with the shoes prepared by the gospel of peace; above 
all things taking to me the shield of faith, wherewith I may be able 
to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked, and taking the helmet of 
salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is thy most holy word, 
praying always with all manner of prayer and supplication, that I 
may refer myself wholly to thy will, abiding thy pleasure, and com- 
forting myself in those troubles which it shall please thee to send me, 
seeing such troubles be profitable for me, and seeing I am assuredly 
persuaded that it cannot but be well all thou that dost. Hear me, O 
merciful Father ! for his sake, whom thou wouldest should be a sacri- 
fice for my sins : to whom, with thee, and the Holy Ghost, be all 
honor and glory. Amen." 

These are the principal remains of this most excellent lady. It 
may not be displeasing to our readers to hear what judgment Bishop 



LAD* JANE GREY. 29 

Burnet has passed upon them. "One effect," says he, "of this, 
that is, of the frustrated rising of Sir Thomas Wiat, was the pro- 
ceeding severely against the Lady Jane, and her husband, the Lord 
Guildford, who both suffered on the 12th of February, 1554. The 
Lady Jane was not much disordered at it, for she knew upon the first 
jealousy that she must be the sacrifice, and therefore had now lived 
six months in the constant expectation of death. Feckenham, af- 
terwards Abbot of Westminster, was sent to her by the queen, three 
days before, to prepare her to die. He had a long conversation with 
her, but she answered him with that calmness of mind, and clearness 
of reason, that it was astonishing to hear so young a person of her sex 
and quality look on death so near her with so little disorder, and talk 
so sensibly both of faith and holiness, of the sacraments, the Scrip- 
tures, and the authority of the church. Feckenham left her, seeing 
he could work nothing on her, but procured her, as it is said, the con- 
tinuance of her life three days longer, and waited on her on the scaf- 
fold. She wrote to her father to moderate his grief for her death, 
which must needs have been great, since his folly had occasioned it. 
She expressed her sense of her sin in assuming the royal dignity, 
though he knew how unwillingly she was drawn into it, and that in 
her royal estate her enforced honor had never defiled her innocent 
heart. She rejoiced at her approaching end, since nothing could be 
to her more welcome than to be delivered from that valley of misery 
into that heavenly throne to which she was to be advanced, where 
she prayed they might meet at last. There was one Harding, who 
had been her father's chaplain, and that was a zealous preacher in 
King Edward's days, before whose death he had animated the peo- 
ple much to prepare for persecution, and never depart from the truth 
of the gospel, but he had now fallen away himself. To him she 
wrote a letter full of severe expostulations and threatenings for his 
apostasy; but it had no effect upon him. It is of an extraordinary 
strain, full of life in the thoughts, and of zeal, if there is not too 
much, in the expressions. The night before her execution she sent 
her Greek Testament, which she had always used, to her sister, 
with a letter, in which, in most pathetic expressions, she sets out the 
value she had of it, and recommended the study and practice of it 
earnestly to her. She had also composed a devout prayer for her 
retirements, and thus had she spent the last moments of her life."* 
I cannot restrain myself from adding what the same bishop, in 
another place, says concerning her, which, if it is a digression in the 
order of our account of this lady, it will be more than excused for 
the excellency of the character this celebrated historian draws of 
her. "She read," says he, "the Scriptures much, and had attained 
great knowledge in divinity. But with all these advantages of birth 



■ Burnet's History of the Reformation, Vol. II, pp. 271,272. 



30 MEMOIRS OF 

and parts, she was so humble, so gentle, and pious, that all people 
both admired and loved her. She had a mind wonderfully raised 
above the world ; and at the age when others are but imbibing the 
notions of philosophy, she had attained to the practice of the highest 
precepts of it. She was neither lifted up with the hope of a crown, 
nor cast down, when she saw her palace made afterwards her prison, 
but carried herself with an equal temper of mind in those great ine- 
qualities of fortune, that so suddenly exalted and depressed her. 
All the passion she expressed in it was that which is of the noblest 
sort, and is the indication of tender and generous natures, being 
much affected with the troubles into which her husband and father 
fell on her account."* 

We are now to attend this excellent lady to her closing scene, and 
view in what a manner she met her violent, though unmerited death. 
The day finally appointed for her execution, as well as that of her 
husband Lord Dudley, was the 12th of February, 1554. The fatal 
morning being come, her husband earnestly desired the officers that 
he might take his last farewell of her, which, though they willingly 
permitted, yet upon notice, she advised the contrary, assuring him, 
"that such a meeting would rather add to his afflictions, than increase 
that quiet wherewith they had possessed their souls for the stroke of 
death, that he demanded a lenitive which would put fire into the 
wound, and that it was to be feared her presence would rather weak- 
en than strengthen him ; that if his soul were not firm and settled, 
she could not settle it by her eyes, nor confirm it by her words ; that 
he would do well to remit this interview to the other world ; that 
there, indeed, friendships were happy, and unions indissoluble, and 
that their's would be eternal, if they carried nothing with them of ter- 
restrial, which might hinder them from rejoicing." She expressed 
great tenderness when she saw her husband led out to execution, but 
soon overcame it, when she considered how closely she was to fol- 
low him. All she could do was to give him a farewell out of the win- 
dow as he passed toward the place of his execution, which he suffer- 
ed on a scaffold on Tower-hill with much Christian meekness. His 
dead body being laid in a car, and his head wrapped up in a linen 
cloth, were carried to the chapel within the Tower, in the way to 
which they were to pass under the window of the Lady Jane, which 
sad spectacle she beheld with a settled countenance. After this af- 
fecting sight, she wrote three short sentences in her table-book, in 
Greek, Latin, and English ; which book, upon Sir John Bridges'sf 
entreaty, that she would bestow upon him some memorial, she pre- 



* Burnet's History of the Reformation, Vol. II, pp. 234, 335, lblio edit. 

I This Sir John Bridges, the ancestor of the present noble family of that name, 
dukes of Chandos, was lieutenant of the Tower at this time, and was present with 
Lady Jane in her apartment, from the windows of which she had the last sight of 
her husband living and dead: 



LADY JANE GREY. 31 

sented to him as an acknowledgment for the civility she had receiv- 
ed from him. The sense of the Greek sentence was : " If his slain 
body shall give testimony against me before men, his most blessed 
soul shall render an eternal proof of my innocence in the presence 
of God." The Latin sentence was to this effect : " The justice of 
men took away his body, but the divine mercy has preserved his 
soul." And the English sentence ran thus : " If my fault deserved 
punishment, my youth at least, and my imprudence, were worthy of 
excuse. God and posterity will show me favor." She was led out 
by the lieutenant of the Tower to the scaffold that was prepared upon 
the green, over against the White Tower. It is said, that the court 
had once taken a resolution to have had her beheaded upon the same 
scaffold with her husband, but, considering how much they were both 
pitied, and how generally Lady Jane was beloved, it was determined, 
to prevent any commotions, that her execution should be performed 
within the Tower. She was attended to and upon the scaffold by 
Mr. Feckenham, but she was observed not to give much heed to his 
discourses, keeping her eyes steadily fixed on a book of prayers she 
had in her hand. After some short recollection she saluted those 
who were present, with a countenance perfectly composed ; then ta- 
king her leave of Mr. Feckenham, she said, " God will abundantly 
requite you, good sir, for your humanity to me, though your discours- 
es gave me more uneasiness than all the terrors of my approaching 
death." She next addressed herself to the spectators in the follow- 
ing speech : " My lords, and you good Christian people which come 
to see me die. I am under a law, and by that law, as a never-er- 
ring judge, I am condemned to die, not for any thing I have offend- 
ed the queen's majesty, for I will wash my hands guiltless thereof, 
and deliver to my God a soul as pure from such tresspass, as inno- 
cence from injustice, but only for that I consented to the thing I was 
forced unto, constraint making the law believe I did that which I nev- 
er understood. Notwithstanding I have offended Almighty God in 
that I have followed over-much the lust of my own flesh, and the 
pleasures of this wretched world ; neither have I lived according to 
the knowledge that God hath given me, for which cause God hath 
appointed to me this kind of death, and that most worthily according 
to my deserts ; howbeit I thank him heartily that he hath given me 
time to repent of my sins here in this world, and to reconcile myself 
to my Redeemer, whom my former vanities had in a great measure 
displeased. Wherefore, my lords, and all you good Christian peo- 
ple, I most earnestly desire you all to pray with me, and for me, while 
I am yet alive, that God of his infinite goodness and mercy will for- 
give my sins, how numberless and grievous soever, against him ; and 
I beseech you all to bear me witness that I here die a true Christian 
woman, professing and avouching from my soul that I trust to be sa- 
ved by the blood, passion, and merits of Jesus Christ, my Savior, on- 
ly, and by no other means, casting far behind me all the works and 



32 MEMOIRS, &C. 

merits of mine own actions, as things so short of the true duty I owe, 
that I quake to think how much they may stand up against me." 
Having delivered this speech, she kneeled down, and repeated the 
fifty-first psalm in a most devout manner from beginning to end; after 
which he stood up, and gave her gloves and her handkerchief to her 
women, Mrs. Eliz. Tilney and Mrs. Helen, and her prayer book to 
Sir John Bridges. On her untying her gown the executioner offer- 
ed to assist her, but she desired him to let her alone, and turning her- 
self to her woman they helped her off with it, and gave her an hand- 
kerchief to bind about her eyes. The executioner kneeling down re- 
quested her forgiveness, which she most willingly gave him. Upon 
this he desired her to stand upon the straw, which bringing her within 
sight of the block, she said, " I pray dispatch me quickly." Then 
kneeling down, she asked, " Will you take it off before I lay me 
down ?" To which the executioner replied, " No, madam." She 
then tied her handkerchief about her eyes, and feeling for the block 
said, " What shall I do ? where is it ?" Upon which, one of the 
standers-by guiding her to it, she laid her head down upon the block, 
and then stretched herself forward, and said, "Lord, into thine hands 
I commend my spirit," and immediately the executioner at one stroke 
severed her head from her body. 

Thus fell this most accomplished lady, resigning her life in a man- 
ner worthy of her employing and improving it ; " and a true Chris- 
tian faith," as one observes, " having uniformly produced a Christian 
life, with What triumph did it trample on the sting of death, and spread 
a glory round the Lady Jane, that eclipsed the faint lustre of the su- 
perstitious and cruel Queen Mary on her throne ?"* 



* Glocester Ridley's Life of Bishop Ridley, p. 427. 



33 



CATHARINE PARR. 

CATHARINE, WIFE OF KING HENRY THE EIGHTH, COMMONLY CALLED 
CATHARINE PARR. 



She was born about the beginning of the reign of King Henry the 
Eighth, who succeeded to the throne of England April 22, 1509. 
She was the eldest of the two daughters of Sir Thomas Parr, of 
Kendal, by Dame Maud his wife, who bestowed on her a learned 
education, as the most valuable addition he could make to her other 
accomplishments. Her progress in literature fully answered her fa- 
ther's culture and expectations, so that she soon became celebrated 
not only for her good sense, but her learning, and made a most excel- 
lent use of her abilities in the employment of them for the best pur- 
poses in every stage of her future life. 

She was first married to John Nevill, Lord Latymer and after his 
decease her perfections both in body and mind so powerfully attracted 
the affections of King Henry, that she was married to him at Hamp- 
ton Court, July 12, 1543. 

She always took great delight in conversing with the sacred wri- 
tings, and the investigation of divine truths, which soon dissipated the 
clouds of ignorance, and set before her in a true light the nature of 
the gospel. She seems, indeed, to have had a religious tincture from 
her infancy, but the religious duties she so carefully practised in ear- 
ly life were according to the blind devotion of that age. These er- 
rors she not only afterwards retracted, but forwarded the Reforma- 
tion, and advanced and encouraged the Protestant cause. She pur- 
sued these good designs as far as the mutable and perverse disposi- 
tion of an arbitrary prince, and the iniquity of the times, would ad- 
mit, and even further than she could go without exposing herself to 
the utmost danger ; for though her laudable attempts were carried on 
with all proper prudence, and as much secrecy as the nature of the 
thing would allow, yet they were maliciously observed by Stephen 
Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, who, with the Chancellor Wriothes- 
ley and others, conspired against her so artfully, that at length, hav- 
ing drawn up articles, they procured a warrant subscribed by the 
king's own hand to remove her to the Tower, which being accident- 
ally dropped, was happily found by a person who conveyed it to her 
majesty. The sight of it, and the reflections upon the hard fate of 
other queens, threw her into a violent disorder, which confined her 
to her bed. The king hearing of her illness, made her a very kind and 
seasonable visit, spoke all the comfortable things imaginable to her, 
and sent her one of his physicians, Dr. Wendy, as is believed, to take 

5 



34 MEMOIRS OF 

care of her health. The doctor, it seems, was apprized of the de- 
sign, and guessed from outward symptoms the cause of the queen's 
indisposition ; upon which, well knowing her singular prudence, and 
relying upon her fidelity, he ventured to open the matter to her. The 
king himself being at the same time a little indisposed, the doctor ad- 
vised the queen to make his majesty a visit, not doubting but that by 
her good sense, and prudent management, she might avert the im- 
pending danger. The queen took the doctor's advice, and soon af- 
ter made his majesty a visit, attended only by her sister, the Lady 
Herbert, and the Lady Lane. She found the king sitting and talk- 
ing with some gentlemen of his chamber. He seemed pleased with 
her visit, and addressed her in a very obliging manner ; and, break- 
ing off his discourse with his attendants, he began of his own accord, 
contrary to his usual custom, to confer with her about matters of reli- 
gion, seeming as it were, desirous to be resolved by the queen of cer- 
tain doubts, which he then proposed to her. The queen, instantly 
perceiving the tendency of his discourse, answered with great humili- 
ty and submission : 

" Your majesty doth know right well, neither am I myself ignorant, 
what great imperfection and weakness by our first creation are allot- 
ted to us women, so as to be ordained and appointed as inferior and 
subject to men as our head, from which head all our directions ought 
to proceed ; and that as God made man to his own shape and likeness, 
whereby he being endowed with more special gifts of perfection, 
might rather be stirred to the contemplation of heavenly things, and 
to the earnest endeavor to obey his commandments, even so also 
made he woman of man, of whom and by whom she is to be govern- 
ed, commanded, and directed : whose womanly weakness and nat- 
ural imperfections ought to be tolerated, aided, and borne withal, so 
that by his wisdom such things as be wanting in her, ought to be 
supplied. 

" Since, therefore, that God hath appointed such a natural differ- 
ence between man and woman, and your majesty being so excellent 
in gifts and ornaments of wisdom ; and I, a simple poor woman, so 
much inferior in all respects of nature unto you, how then comes it 
now to pass that your majesty in such diffuse causes of religion, will 
seem to require my judgment? which, when 1 have uttered, and said 
what I can, yet must I, and will I refer my judgment in this and all 
other cases to your majesty's wisdom, as my only anchor, supreme 
head, and governor here in earth, next under God, to lean unto." 

"Not so, by St. Mary !" replied the king, " you are become a doc- 
tor, Kate, to instruct us, as we take it, and not to be instructed or di- 
rected by us." 

" If your majesty take it so," answered the queen, then hath your 
majesty very much mistaken me, who have ever been of the opinion 
to think it very unseemly and preposterous for the woman to take 
upon her the office of an instructer, or teacher, to her lord and hus- 



CATHARINE PARR. 35 

band, but rather to learn of her husband, and be taught by him : and 
where I have, with your majesty's leave, presumed heretofore to dis- 
course with your majesty, in which I have sometimes seemed to dis- 
sent from you, I did it not so much to maintain my opinion, as to min- 
ister discourse, not only to the end that your majesty might with the 
less grief pass over this painful time of your infirmity by this kind of 
engagement, which I fancied might afford you some relief, but also 
that I, hearing your majesty's learned arguments, might from thence 
gain to myself great advantage : and I assure your majesty, I have 
not missed any part of my desired end in that behalf, always refer- 
ring myself, in all such matters, unto your majesty, as by ordinance 
of nature it is convenient for me to do." 

"And it is even so, sweetheart?" said the king, " and tended your 
arguments to no worse an end ? then are we now perfect friends 
again, as ever we were before." And, as he sat in his chair, em- 
bracing her in his arms, and saluting her, he declared, "That it did 
him more good at that time to hear these words from her own mouth, 
than if he had heard present news of an hundred thousand pounds 
in money having fallen to him." Afterwards, having entertained the 
queen and attendants with some diverting conversation, he gave her 
leave to depart, and in her absence gave her the highest commmen- 
dation. 

The day, and almost the hour appointed, being come in which the 
queen was to be conveyed to the Tower, the king went into his gar- 
den, with only two gentlemen of the bedchamber, and sent for the 
queen, who immediately came to wait upon his majesty, attended by 
Lady Herbert, Lady Lane, and Lady Tyrwhyt, who were all to have 
been apprehended with the queen. The king seemed in high spirits, 
and entertained them with all imaginable gayety. In the midst of 
their mirth the lord chancellor approached his majesty's presence, 
with forty of the king's guards at his heels. The king looked upon 
him with a very stern countenance, and walking a small distance 
from the queen called the chancellor to him, who, upon his knees, 
spoke softly to his majesty. The king in great anger, called him 
knave, arrant knave, beast, and fool, and commanded him instantly 
to be gone out of his presence. Being gone, the king immediately 
returned to the queen, who, perceiving him to be much chagrined, 
employed all the powers of her eloquence to soften his displeasure, 
humbly entreating his majesty, if the chancellor's fault were not too 
heinous, to pardon him for her sake. 

"Ah, poor soul," says the king, " thou little knowest how evil he 
hath deserved this grace at thy hands. Of my word, sweetheart, he 
hath been to thee an arrant knave, and so let him go." To which 
the queen returned an answer expressive of her charitable dispo- 
sition. 

Thus, remarkably, did Divine Providence defend her from the 
snares and malice of her enemies, and rescue her from this most im- 



36 MEMOIRS OF 

minent danger, which being over, she passed safely through the re- 
mainder of this tempestuous reign. 

This dreadful alarm seems to have awakened all the faculties of 
her soul, and to have put her upon the employment of her thoughts 
in pious meditations and prayer, and upon making due preparation 
for eternity. 

She saw, very plainly, that the principles of religion she had first 
imbibed, did not correspond with the inspired writings. But though 
she had a considerable share of learning, joined to an excellent un- 
derstanding, yet her great modesty would not permit them to be her 
only guide in matters of such great importance, for she kept several 
eminent divines constantly with her to solve her doubts, and instruct 
her in the true religion. With these learned men, who were her 
chaplains, she used to have private conferences, as often as opportu- 
nity would permit, about the doctines of the Reformation, and the 
abuses which were then crept into the church, but particularly in 
Lent. She had a sermon preached to her every day in the after- 
noon, in her chamber, which generally lasted about an hour, at which 
time the ladies and gentlemen of her privy-chamber, and others who 
were disposed to hear, were present. To all this she added great 
application and industry in the study of books of divinity, particularly 
of the Holy Scriptures. Being thus qualified, she began to commit 
some of her own thoughts to writing. Her first composition seems 
to have been that entitled, ' Queen Katharine Parr's Lamentation of 
a Sinner, bewailing the ignorance of her blind life.' This discourse 
was found among her papers after her death, and was published by 
Secretary Cecil, who prefixed to it a preface of his own writing. 
In it she acknowledges the sinful course of her life for many years, 
in which she, relying on external performances, such as fasts and 
pilgrimages, was all the time a stranger to the true internal power of 
religion, which she came afterwards to experience by the study of 
the Scriptures, and prayer to God for the assistance of that Holy 
Spirit, by whose direction they were indited. She explains, clearly, 
the ideas she had of justification by faith, so that holiness was its ne- 
cessary consequence, and lamented the great scandals given by ma- 
ny Gospellers, a name by which they were distinguished who gave 
themselves to the reading of the Scriptures. 

She also drew up psalms, prayers, and pious discourses, which 
she herself published. The psalms were in number fifteen, each of 
considerable length, and composed in imitation of the Psalms of 
David, being digested into versicles, of which many were borrowed 
from the book of Psalms, and other portions of Scripture. Each 
Psalm had its proper subject. The first was 'for the remission of 
sins,' beginning, " O Lord of lords, God Almighty, great and dread- 
ful, which by thy word hast made heaven, earth, the sea, and all 
things contained in them ! nothing is able to resist thy power : thy 
mercy is over all thy works : all things be under thy dominion and 



CATHARINE PARR. 37 

rule, both man and beast, and all living creatures : thou art merciful 
to whom thou wilt, and hast compassion on whom it pleaseth thee," 

&c. 

The second Psalm also was 'for remission of sins," beginning, 

"O most mighty God of angels and men, whose judgments be 
unsearchable, and whose wisdom is profound and deep ; 

" Hear the prayers of thy servant, and cast not away the humble 
suit of thy poor creature, and handy-work," he. 

The third Psalm was 'for remission of sins' also. The fourth, 
'A complaint of a penitent sinner which is sore troubled, and over- 
come with sins.' The fifth, 'For obtaining of godly wisdom.' The 
sixth, 'A Christian man prayeth that he may be healed of God.' 
The seventh, ' For an order and direction of good living.' The 
eighth, ' A Christian prayeth that he may be delivered from his ene- 
mies.' The ninth, 'Against enemies.' The tenth, 'When enemies 
be so cruel that a Christian cannot suffer them.' The eleventh, 'Of 
confidence and trust in God.' The twelfth, ' If God defer to help 
long time.' The thirteenth, 'In which a Christian gives thanks to 
God that his enemies have not gotten the over-hand of him.' The 
fourteenth, 'In which the goodness of God is praised.' The fifteenth, 
1 Of the benefits of God, with thanks for the same." To which were 
subjoined the twenty second Psalm, entitled, 'The complaint of Christ 
on the cross,' and 'a Psalm of Thanksgiving.' 

Then followed the book of prayer, entitled, 'Prayers or Medita- 
tions,' wherein the mind is stirred up patiently to suffer all afflictions 
here, and to set at nought the vain prosperity of this world, and alway 
to long for everlasting felicity, collected out of holy works, he. 
These prayers were all digested, as were the psalms aforesaid, into 
verses and sentences, and contain a great spirit of true piety and 
devotion, sense of God, and dependence upon him ; and many of 
them were excellently suited to her condition. Then follow two 
prayers for the king, and for men to say entering battle, the latter of 
which the queen very probably composed upon the king's expedition 
into France with a great army, when she was left regent at home. 
In this prayer she has this truly pious petition, "Our cause being 
now just, and being enforced into war and battle, we most humbly 
beseech thee, O Lord God of Hosts ! so to turn the hearts of our 
enemies to the desire of peace, that no Christian blood be spilt ; or 
else grant, O Lord ! that with small effusion of blood, and to the 
little hurt and damage of innocents, we may to thy glory obtain vic- 
tory, and that the wars being soon ended, we may all with one heart 
and mind knit together in concord and unity laud and praise thee." 
The next is a devout prayer to be daily said, together with one or 
two besides. 

There was also printed another piece of the devout studies of this 
good queen, entitled, 'A goodly Exposition of the fifty first Psalm, 
which Hierom of Ferrary made at the latter end of his days.' This 



38 MEMOIRS OF 

work begins, " Wretch that I am, comfortless and forsaken of all 
men, which have offended both heaven and earth," he. Then fol- 
low in conclusion other things, as ' Of Faith — The power of Faith — - 
The Work of Faith — Good Works — The Prayer of the Prophet 
Daniel.' 

Before we proceed any further in the Memoirs of this truly excel- 
lent person, we shall present our readers with a pious prayer of hers 
composed in short ejaculations, suited to her condition, which may 
serve as a specimen of the devout exercises of her soul. 

" Most benign Lord Jesu, grant me thy grace, that it may alway 
work in me, and persevere with me unto the end ! 

" Grant me that I may ever desire and will that which is most 
pleasant and acceptable unto thee ! 

" Thy will be my will, and my will to follow always thy will ! 

" Let there be alway in me one will, and one desire with thee, and 
that I have no desire to will or not to will, but as thou wilt ! 

" Lord, Thou knowest what thing is most profitable, and most ex- 
pedient for me : 

"Give me therefore what thou wilt, as much as thou wilt, and 
when thou wilt ! 

" Do with me what thou wilt, as it shall please thee, and as shall 
be most to thine honor ! 

" Put me where thou wilt, and freely do with me in all things after 
thy will ! 

"Thy creature I am, and in thy hands. Lead me, and turn me 
where thou wilt ! 

" Lo ! I am thy servant, ready to do all things that thou command- 
est; for I desire not to live to myself, but to thee. 

" Lord Jesu ! I pray thee grant me thy grace, that I never set my 
heart on the things of this world, but that all carnal and worldly af- 
fections may utterly die, and be mortified in me ! 

" Grant me, above all things, that I may rest in thee and fully pa- 
cify and quiet my heart in thee ! 

" For thou, Lord, art the very true peace of heart and the per- 
fect rest of the soul, and without thee all things be grievous and un- 
quiet. 

" My Lord Jesu, I beseech thee, be with me in every place, and 
at all times ; and let it be to me a special solace gladly for to love 
to lack all worldly solace ! 

"And if thou withdraw thy comfort from me at any time, keep 
me, O Lord, from separation (desperation) and make me patiently 
to bear thy will and ordinance ! 

"O Lord Jesu, thy judgments be righteous, and thy providence 
is much better for me than all that I can imagine or devise ! 

" Wherefore do with me in all things as it shall please thee ! 

" For it may not be but well, all that thou dost. If thou wilt that 
I be in light, be thou blessed ; if thou wilt that I be in darkness, be 
thou also blessed ! 



CATHARINE PARR. 39 

" If thou vouchsafe to comfort me, be thou highly blessed ; and if 
thou wilt I lie in trouble, and without comfort, be thou likewise ever 
blessed ! 

" Lord, give me grace gladly to suffer whatsoever thou wilt shall 
fall upon me, and patiently to take at thy hand good and evil, bitter 
and sweet, joy and sorrow ; and for all things that shall befall unto 
me heartily to thank thee ! 

" Keep me, Lord, from sin, and I shall then dread neither death 
nor hell ! 

" Oh ! what thanks shall I give unto thee, which hast suffered the 
grievous death of the cross to deliver me from my sins, and to ob- 
tain everlasting life for me ? 

" Thou gavest us a most perfect example of patience, fulfilling 
and obeying the will of thy Father, even unto death. 

" Make me, wretched sinner, obediently to use myself after thy 
will in all things, and patiently to bear the burden of this corrupt life! 

" For though this life be tedious, and as an heavy burthen to my 
soul, yet, nevertheless, through thy grace, and by example of thee, 
it is now made much more easy and comfortable than it was before 
thy incarnation and passion. 

" Thy holy life is our way to thee, and by following that, we walk 
to thee that art our head and Savior : and except thou hadst gone 
before, and shewed us the way to everlasting life, who would en- 
deavor himself to follow thee, seeing we be yet so slow and dull, 
having the light of thy blessed example and holy doctrine to lead 
and direct us? 

" O Lord Jesu, make that possible by grace that is impossible by 
nature ! 

" Thou knowest well that I may little suffer, and that I am soon 
cast down, and overthrown with a little adversity : wherefore, I be- 
seech thee, O Lord, to strengthen me with thy Spirit, that I may 
willingly suffer for thy sake all manner of troubles and afflictions ! 

" Lord, I will acknowledge unto thee all mine unrighteousness, and 
I will confess to thee all the unstableness of my heart. 

" Oftentimes a very little thing troubleth me sore, and maketh me 
dull and slow to serve thee : 

" And sometimes I purpose to stand strongly, but when a little 
trouble cometh it is to me great anguish and grief, and of a right little 
thing riseth a grievous temptation to me ; 

"Yea, when I think myself to be sure and strong, as it seemeth I 
have the upper hand, suddenly I feel myself ready to fall with a little 
blast of temptation. 

" Behold therefore, good Lord, my weakness and consider my 
frailness best known to thee ! 

" Have mercy on me and deliver me from all iniquity and sin, that 
I be not entangled therewith ! 



40 . MEMOIRS OF 

" Oftentimes it grieveth me sore, and in a manner confoundeth me 
that I am so unstable, so weak and so frail in resisting sinful motions; 

" Which, although they draw me not away to consent, yet never- 
theless their assaults be very grievous unto me ; 

" And it is tedious to me to live in such battle, albeit I perceive 
that such battle is not unprofitable unto me, for thereby 1 know my- 
self, and mine own infirmities, and that I must seek help only at thine 
hands. 

" It is to me an unpleasant burthen, what pleasure soever the world 
offer eth me here. 

" I desire to have inward fruition in thee, but I cannot attain 
thereto." 

The number as well as piety of these compositions sufficiently 
show how much of her time and thoughts, amidst all the business and 
ceremonies of her exalted station, were employed in order to secure 
her everlasting happiness, and sow the seeds of piety and virtue in 
the minds of her people. And as she very well knew how far good 
learning was subservient to these great ends, so she used her utmost 
endeavors for its establishment and increase. A remarkable proof 
of which we have in the following authentic piece of history. When 
the act was made, that all colleges, chantries, and free chapels, should 
be in the king's disposal, the University of Cambridge were filled with 
terrible apprehensions ; but well knowing the queen's great regard to 
learning, they addressed letters to her by Dr. Smith, afterwards Sir 
Thomas Smith, the learned secretary of state to King Edward, in 
which they intreated her majesty to intercede with the king for 
their colleges, which accordingly she effectually did, and wrote to 
them in answer, "That she had attempted the king's majesty for the 
stay of their possessions, and that, notwithstanding his majesty's prop- 
erty and interest to them by virtue of that act of parliament, he was, 
she said, such a patron to good learning, that he would rather advance 
and erect new occasions thereof, than confound those their colleges ; 
so that learning might hereafter ascribe her very original, whole con- 
servation, and sure stay to him ; adding, that the prosperous state of 
which long to preserve she doubted not but every one would with 
daily invocation call upon Him, who alone and only can dispose all 
to every creature." In the same letter she tells them, " That foras- 
much as she well understood that all kinds of learning flourished 
among them as it did among the Greeks at Athens long ago, she de- 
sired and required them all not so to hunger for the exquisite knowl- 
edge of profane learning, that it might be thought that the Greek 
University was but transported, or now in England again revived, for- 
getting our Christianity, since the excellency of Greeks only attained 
to moral and natural things, but that she rather gently exhorted them 
to study and apply those doctrines (the variety of human learning) as 
means and apt degrees to the attaining and setting forth the better, 
Christ's revered and most sacred doctrine, that it might not be laid 



CATHARINE PARR. 4,1 

against them in evidence at the tribunal seat of God, how they were 
ashamed of Christ's doctrine ; for this Latin lesson, she goes on, I 
am taught to say of St. Paul ; "Non me pudet evangelii"* and then 
adds, to the sincere setting forth whereof I trust universally in all 
your vocations and ministries you will apply and conform your sundry 
gifts, arts, and studies to such end and sort, that Cambridge may be 
accounted rather an university of divine philosophy than of natural 
or moral, as Athens was." 

This so satisfactory an answer to the petition of the University of 
Cambridge, shows as well the great influence she had over the king, 
as the good use she made of it; nor can the reader fail of observing 
from her letter how well she deserved his majesty's favor. Indeed 
she merited every instance of it she could desire ; for, next to the 
studies of the Holy Scriptures, and the performance of the duties 
enjoined by them, she seems to have made it her principal care to 
be obsequious to his will. And as that part of his life which it fell 
to her lot to share with him was attended with almost continual indis- 
positions, so his ill health joined such a fierceness of manners to his. 
former untraceable disposition, as rendered it a task extremely diffi- 
cult even for his prime favorites to make themselves agreeable to him, 
and preserve his esteem; yet, such were the amiable qualities of the 
queen, that by a most obliging tenderness, and charming turn of con- 
versation, she not only secured his affection under all his pain and 
sickness, but greatly contributed to the alleviation of them ; which so 
cemented the king's affections, and grounded her so firmly in his 
good graces, that after the Bishop of Winchester was known to have 
been disappointed in his scheme for her ruin, none of her adversaries 
durst make any attempts against her. 

As a confirmation of what we have said concerning this lady's ex- 
traordinary virtues, and the true sense which the king had of them, 
we shall here exhibit the last testimony of his affection to her from 
his will, which bears date December the 30th, 1546, but one month 
before his decease, which is as follows : 

" And for the great love, obedience, chasteness of life, and 

wisdom being in our aforesaid wife and queen, we bequeath unto her 
for her proper use, and as it shall please her to order it, three thou- 
sand pounds in plate, jewels, and stuff of household, besides such 
apparel as it shall please her to take, as she hath already ; and fur- 
ther we give unto her one thousand pounds in money, with the en- 
joying her dowry and jointure, according to our grant by act of 
parliament." 

Her great zeal for the Reformation, and earnest desire to have the 
Scriptures understood by the common people, put her upon the pro- 
curing several learned persons to translate Erasmus's paraphrase on 



am not ashamed of the Gospel. 

6 



42 MEMOIRS OF 

the New Testament into the English language for the service of the 
public. And this she did at her own great expense. She engaged 
Lady Mary, afterwards Queen Mary, in translating the paraphrase 
on the Gospel of St. John ; upon which occasion she sent the fol- 
lowing epistle in Latin to that princess : 

"Cum multa sint, nobilissima ac-amantissima Domina, qua? me 
facile invitant hoc tempore ad scribendum, nihil tamen perinde me 
movit atque cura valetudinis tuse, quem, ut spero, esse optimam, ita 
de eadem certiorem fieri, magnopere cupio. Quare mitto hunc 
nuntium quem judico fere tibi gratissimum, turn propter artem illam 
musicse, qua? te simul ac me oppido oblectari non ignoro ; turn quod 
a me profectus tibi certissime referre possit de omni statu ac valetu- 
dine mea. Atque sane in animo fuit ante hunc diem iter ad te fe- 
cisse, atque coram salutasse, verum voluntati meae non omnia respon- 
derunt. Nunc spero hac hyeme, idque propediem propius nos esse 
congressuras. Quo sane mini nihil erit jucundum magis, aut magis 
volupte. 

"Cum autem, ut accepi, summa jam manus imposita sit per Ma- 
letum operi Erasmico in Johannem, quod ad tralationem spectat, ne- 
que quicquam nunc restet, nisi ut justa quaedam diligentia ac cura 
adhibeatur in eodem corrigendo te obsecro, ut opus hoc pulcherri- 
mum atque utilissimum jam emendatum per Maletum aut aliquem 
tuorum, ad me transmitti cures, quo suo tempore prelo dari possit ; 
atque porro significes an tuo nomine in lucem felicissime exire velis, 
an potius incerto autore. Cui operas mea sane opinione injuriam 
facere videberis si tui nominis autoritate etiam posteris commenda- 
tum iri recusaveres in quo accuratissime transferendo tanto labores 
summo reipublica? bono suscepisti, pluresque, ut satis notum est, sus- 
ceptura, si valetudo corporis permisisset. Cum ergo in hac re abs 
te laboriose admodum sudatum fuisse nemo non intelligat cur quam 
omnes tibi merito deferant laudem rejicias, non video. Attamen ego 
hanc rem omnem ita relinquo prudential tuae, ut quamcunque velis 
rationem inire earn ego maxime approbandam censuero. 

" Pro crumena quam ad me dono misisti ingentes tibi gratias ago. 
Deum opt. max. precor ut vera ac intaminata felicitate perpetuo te 
beare dignetur : in quo etiam diutissime valeas." Ex Hanwortbia, 
20 Septembris. Tui studiosissima ac amantissima, 

Katharina Regina K. P. 

IN ENGLISH. 

" Though there are several considerations, my most noble and be- 
loved lady, which readily invite me at this juncture to write to you, 
yet there is none that equally induces me with that of my solicitude 
for your health, which, as 1 hope it is perfectly enjoyed by you, so 
I feel myself most earnestly desirous to receive assurance concern- 
ing it. It is for this reason that I have dispatched this messenger to 
you, who I doubt not will be most welcome, both on account of his 



CATHARINE PARR. 43 

eminent skill in music, which I know is a most delightful entertain- 
ment to both of us, and as he will be able, coming immediately from 
me, to give you certain information of my health, and all that relates 
to me. I had it indeed in my intention to have made you a visit, 
and to have paid my respects to you in person, but things have not 
fallen out to my mind. I now promise myself that in the winter, 
before long, we shall have an interview, than which nothing can be 
more acceptable and pleasant to me. 

"As I have been informed that the finishing hand has been put by 
Dr. Mallet to Erasmus's 'Paraphrase on the New Testament,' so far 
as it regards its translation into English, and that nothing now remains 
but an accurate review, and care in its correction, I earnestly request 
you to transmit me this most elegant and useful work now revised by 
Dr. Mallet, or some other able person whom you have employed, in 
order that it may be printed in due time, and that you would also 
signify to me, whether it is your pleasure, which would indeed be 
most auspicious to the work, to have it published with your name, 
or anonymously. Indeed, if I might give my opinion, you will 
considerably obstruct the work, if it does not go down to posterity 
under the sanction of your name, by which, in the most accurate 
translation, you have undertaken a most lasting service for the great 
benefit of the people, and are ready, as it is well known, to make 
further additions in the same kind, if your health will permit. For 
my part, I see no reason, as mankind will undoubtedly ascribe the 
work to yourself, why you should endeavor, by suppressing your 
name, to decline the honor which they will so deservedly confer up- 
on you. But I leave the whole affair so entirely to your prudence, 
that I shall readily fall in with whatever method may seem most eli- 
gible to you. 

" I give you abundant thanks for the present of the purse you was 
so kind as to send me. I beseech the all-gracious and almighty God 
to crown your days with true undisturbed felicity, and to give you a 
long life for its enjoyment !" From Hanworth, the 20th of Sep- 
tember. 

Yours in the most attached and affectionate friendship, 

Catharine Queen K. P. 

King Henry dying upon the 28th of January, 1546-7, when she 
had been his wife three years, six months, and five days, she was, 
not long after, married to Sir Thomas Seymour, Lord Admiral of 
England, and uncle to King Edward the Sixth. This unhappy 
marriage put a stop to all her temporal enjoyments : for between the 
matchless pride and imperiousness of her sister-in-law the Dutchess 
of Somerset, and the boundless ambition and other bad qualities of 
the admiral, such furious animosities ensued, as proved the destruc- 
tion of both families, and must have interrupted the studies and con- 
templations of this excellent lady, now embarked with them, so that 
after this marriage we find no more of the pious productions of her 



44 memoirs, he. 

pen, or any thing considerable, besides her procuring the publication 
of the above-mentioned work, the Translation of Erasmus's Para- 
phrase on the New Testament into English. 

She lived but a short time with this gentleman ; for after being 
delivered of a daughter she died in. childbed in the month of Sep- 
tember, 1548, not without snspicion of poison, as several of our 
writers observe. And, indeed, she herself was apprehensive of un- 
fair dealings, and roundly reproached the admiral on her death-bed 
for his great unkindness to her. 

Where she died, or in what place she lies buried, we know not nor 
can we meet with any information on the head among our historians, 
though many of them mention her death, and speak of her with 
such regard as makes the omission of such a circumstance appear 
somewhat extraordinary ; but we have a Latin epitaph composed 
in memory of her by Dr. Parkhurst, one of her domestic chaplains, 
and afterwards Bishop of Norwich. It bears the following title and 
is as follows : 

Incomparabilis foeminae Catharine, nuper Angliae, Franciae, et Hiberniae Reginae, 
dorninae mere clementissimae, epitaphium. Anno 1548. 

Hoc Regina novo dormit Catharina sepulchro, 

Sexus foeminei flos, honor, atque decus. 
Haec fuit Henrico conjux fidissimaRegi, 

Quern postquam e vivis Parca tulisset atrox 
Thomae Seymero, (cui tu, Neptune, tridentum 

Porrigis) eximio nupserat ilia viro. 
Huic perperit natam : a partu cum septimus orbem 

Sol illustrasset raorstruculenta necat : 
Defunctam madidis famuli deflemus ocellis ; 

Humectat tristes terra Britanna genas. 
Nos infelices moeror consumit acerbus : 

Inter ccelestes gaudet at ilia choros. 

IN ENGLISH. 

An Epitaph on the incomparable Lady Catharine, late Queen of England, 

France, and Ireland, my most amiable mistress. 

This new-erected tomb contains 
The mortal, but rever'd remains 
Of her, who shone through all her days 
Her sex's ornament and praise. 
To Henry, Albion's mighty King, 
With whose renown all nations ring, 
She prov'd a most accomplished wife, 
The crown and comfort of his life. 
Her lord no more, in Hymen's bands 
With Seymour next she joins her hands ; 
Seymour, who o'er the wat'ry plains 
Wielding th' imperial trident reigns: 
To him a female babe she bore, 
But, when the sun had travelled o'er 
For sev'n successive days the skies, 
A breathless corpse the mother lies. 
Her family her loss bemoans, 
Britannia echoes to their groans : 
In night and griefs we pine away ; 
She triumphs in the blaze of day, 
And with th' angelic choirs above, 
Attunes the harp to joy and love. 



45 



THE RIGHT HONORABLE 

MARY, COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 



This lady was the daughter of Richard Boyle, the first Earl of 
Cork, who was born a private gentleman, and the younger son of 
a younger brother, and to no other heritage than what is expressed in 
the words, 

God's Providence is my Inheritance, 

which as a motto he inscribed on the magnificent buildings he erect- 
ed, and indeed ordered to be placed on his tomb. 

By that Providence succeeding his unremitting and wise industry 
he raised himself to such honor and estate, and left behind him such 
a dignified family, as has very rarely if ever before been known ; 
and all this with such an unspotted reputation for integrity, as that 
the most envious scrutiny could discover no blemish in it, and that 
only shone the brighter by the malignant attempts made to obscure 
and debase it. 

The mother of our lady was Catharine, only daughter of Sir 
GeofFry Fenton, principal secretary of state in Ireland. She was 
married to Mr. Boyle, July 25, 1603, and obtained this most hon- 
orable testimony from her husband : " I never," says he, " demanded 
any marriage portion, neither promise of any, it not being in my 
consideration ; yet her father, after her marriage, gave me one thou- 
sand pounds in gold with her. But that gift of his daughter unto me 
I must ever thankfully acknowledge, as the crown of all my bless- 
ings, for she was a most religious, virtuous, loving and obedient wife 
unto me all the days of her life, and the happy mother of all my 
hopeful children, whom with their posterity I beseech God to bless."* 

By that excellent lady the Earl of Cork had fifteen children. 
The Hon. Robert Boyle, famous as a philosopher, more famous as 
a Christian, was one of them. Mary, the seventh daughter, and 
who was married to Charles Rich, Earl of Warwick, is the subject 
of our Memoirs. In opening her character to the public view, we 
shall begin with that which had the first place in her regard, piety to- 
wards God. We shall make some observations on her entrance 
upon it — on her progress in it — on the various exercises of it — and 
her holy zeal and industry to promote and encourage religion in 
others. 



* Birch's Life of the Hon. Robert Boyle, p. 10. 



46 MEMOIRS OF 

As to her entrance upon religion, or making it her business in 
good earnest, though she had received a good education, and had 
been instructed in the grounds of religion in her youth, yet she 
would confess that she understood nothing of the life and power of 
godliness upon her heart, and indeed had no spiritual sense of it 
till some years after she was married. Nay, she declared that she 
came into the family in which she lived and died with so much honor, 
with prejudices and strange apprehensions as to matters of religion, 
and was almost affrighted with the disadvantageous accounts she had 
received concerning it ; but when she came to see the regular per- 
formance of divine worship, and hear the useful, edifying preaching 
of the most necessary, practical and substantial truths, and observe 
the order and good government maintained in it, and met with the 
favor of her right honorable father in-law, who had always an extra- 
ordinary esteem and affection for her, her groundless prepossessions 
dispersed like mists before the sun, and were succeeded by the most 
cordial approbation. 

The providence of God made us of two more remote means of 
her conversion, — afflictions and retirement. Divine wisdom and 
grace may be very adorable in adapting suitable means to accom- 
plish the good purposes of God towards men ; and afflictions and 
retirement, in this lady's circumstances, appeared to be admirably 
chosen out by Providence for her. Her great impediment and diffi- 
culty lay in her love of the pleasures and vanities of the world, which 
she neither knew how to reconcile with the strictness of religion, nor yet 
could be content to part for that, whose nobler delights she at that 
time had never experienced. The Lord therefore gradually drew 
off her mind from the pleasures and vanities of the world, by ren- 
dering insipid, through her afflictions, what had too much attached 
her regards ; and by granting her an happy retirement, to acquaint 
herself more thoroughly with the things of God ; by which she was 
enabled to set her seal to that testimony which God gives to spiritual 
wisdom, that " her ways are ways of pleasantnesss, and that all her 
paths are peace ;" Prov. iii. 17 ; which, indeed, she would fre- 
quently and freely do to her friends, by assuring them that she had 
no cause to repent the exchange of the shadowy and unsubstantial 
pleasures of this world, for the solid and satisfactory joys she found 
in religion, thereby inciting and encouraging them to make the ex- 
periment, not doubting but that upon the trial they would be of the 
same sentiments with herself. 

Two more immediate helps which God blessed to the good of her 
soul, were the preaching of the word, and Christian conference. The 
pressing the necessity of speedy and true repentance, and shewing the 
danger of procrastination, the putting off, and stifling convictions, 
seemed to turn the wavering trembling balance, and to fix the scale 
of her resolution. 



THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 47 

This happy change took place about thirty years before her death ; 
and from this time, (for though her conversation before was by no 
means vicious, but sweet and inoffensive, yet she would confess that 
her mind was vain,) she walked most closely, circumspectly, and ac- 
curately with God ; and very few, if any, from what was seen in her, 
ever chose the better part with more resolution, or more unreserved- 
ly devoted themselves to the love, fear, and service of God, learning 
to be religious in good earnest, and to increase and grow in grace, 
and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. 

To promote and strengthen religion in her soul, she, like the wise 
man, Matt. vii. 24, dug deep to lay her foundations upon a rock. 
She made a strict scrutiny into the state of her soul, and weighed 
the reasons of her choice in the balance of the sanctuary ; and with 
the other builder in the gospel, Luke, xiv. 28, sat down and consid- 
ered with herself what it might cost to finish her spiritual' edifice, and 
whether she were furnished to bear the charge. She examined 
whether the grounds of her hope were firm, and such as would not 
delude and shame her, and whether her evidences for heaven were 
such as would abide the test, and be approved by Scripture. On 
this most important and interesting concern she drew up a paper with 
her own hand, which a good judge, to whom she privately commu- 
nicated it, declared to be judiciously, modestly, and humbly written. 
Having put her hand to the plough, she looked not back, but minded 
religion as her business indeed, and never gave so much as the suspi- 
cion of her trifling in so solemn and momentous a work. 

As to the various exercises of religion, or the practice of it, it ap- 
peared to be her great design to walk worthy of God in all well-pleas- 
ing, to adorn her professed subjection to the gospel by a conversation 
becoming it, and to shew forth his virtues and praises who had called 
her into his marvellous light. 

According she was very careful and circumspect in abstaining from 
all appearance of evil. In all doubtful cases her rule was to take 
the safest side, for she would say that she was sure it would do her 
no hurt to let what was any way dubious as to its lawfulness, alone. 
While, therefore, none were further from censuring others, or usurp- 
ing judgment over their liberties, yet for herself she would never al- 
low herself the addition of an artificial beauty, using neither paint nor 
patches ; neither would she play at any games, because, besides ma- 
ny other inconveniences, she thought them great wasters of precious 
time, of which she was nobly avaricious. There were three things, 
she said, that were too hard for her, and which she confessed she 
could not comprehend. 

" How those who professed to believe an eternal state, and its de- 
pendence upon this inch of time, could complain of time's lying as a 
dead commodity on their hands, which they were at a difficulty to 
dispose of. 



48 MEMOIRS OF 

" How professing Christians, who would seem devout at church, 
could laugh at others for being serious out of it, and burlesque the 
Bible, and turn religion into ridicule." 

And finally, " How intelligent men could take care of souls, and 
seldom come among them, and never look after them." 

Many years before her death she began to keep a diary, consult- 
ing two persons, whom she used to call her soul friends, concerning 
the best manner of performing it. She at first wrote her diary every 
evening ; but finding the evening inconvenient, from her lord's long 
illness, which occasioned her many inevitable interruptions at that 
season, she changed it into the quiet, silent morning, always rising 
early. In this diary, among other things she recorded the daily 
frame of her own heart towards God, his signal providences to her- 
self, and sometimes to others, the gracious manifestations of God to 
her soul, answers of prayer, temptations resisted, or prevailing, or 
whatever might be useful for caution or encouragement, or afford her 
matter of thankfulness or humiliation. 

She used to style prayer hearfs-ease, as she often experienced it ; 
and, though her modesty was such, and she was so far from a vain 
ostentation of her gifts, that a minister,* who was long acquainted 
with her, says, " that he could not name one person with whom she 
prayed ; yet," adds he, " I can say that she was not only constant and 
abundant in prayer, but mighty and fervent in it ; for, as she some- 
times used her voice, she hath been overheard in her devotions ; and 
her own lord, knowing her hours of prayer, once conveyed a grave 
and judicious minister into a secret place within hearing, who much 
admired her humble fervency." In praying she prayed, and, when 
she used not an audible voice, her sighs and groans would be heard 
from her closet. On the very day before she died she shut up her- 
self above an hour, which she spent in fervent private prayer, not- 
withstanding her indisposition. Indeed prayer was the very element 
in which she lived, and actually died ; or the vital breath of her soul 
that wafted it immediately to heaven. 

But if she exceeded herself in any thing as much as she excelled 
others in most things, it was in meditation. She usually walked two 
hours every morning to meditate alone, in which divine art she was a 
most accomplished proficient, both as to set and occasional contempla- 
tions; in set comtemplations choosing some particular subject, which 
she would press upon her heart with the most intense thought, till she 
had drawn out its juice and nourishment ; and in occasional medita- 
tions like a bee extracting honey from all occurrences ; whole vol- 
umes of which she hath left behind her. 



* Dr. Anthony Walker, rector of Fyfield in Essex. He preached a Sermon at 
Felsted at the countess's funeral, and afterwards printed it under the title of, " The 
virtuous Woman found, her Loss bewailed, and her Character exemplified ;" to 
which are annexed, " Some of her ladyship's pious and useful Meditations." To 
this publication we have been principally obliged for the Memoirs of this excellent 
lady, as well as her pious compostions. 



THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 49 

After she had consecrated the day with reading the Scriptures, 
prayer, and meditation, a short dressing time, and ordering her do- 
mestic affairs, or reading some good book, employed the remainder 
of the morning, till the season came for chapel prayers, from which 
she never absented herself, and in which she was ever reverent, and 
a devout example to her whole family. 

She was a strict observer of the Lord's day, which may be truly 
considered as the best external preservative of religion ; for it is very 
evident that the streams of godliness are deep or shallow, according 
as this bank is kept up, or neglected. 

This lady was a very serious and diligent hearer of the word, and 
constantly after sermon recollected what she had heard, sometimes 
by writing, always by thinking, and calling it to mind that she might 
make it her own, and turn it into practice, not content to be a forget- 
ful, fruitless hearer, but being a doer, that she might be blessed in her 
deed : James i. 25. 

Nor was she less solicitous to make others good than to be good 
herself. She well remembered our Savior's charge to Peter : 
"When thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren:" Luke, xxii. 
32. She set herself to build God's spiritual temple, and applied her- 
self to it with all her might. She had a seraphic zeal for the glory 
of God, and a great love for immortal souls, and hence she was en- 
gaged to promote religion with the utmost industry, which, that she 
might accomplish with greater advantage, she would in company in- 
troduce good discourse, to prevent idle, or worse communication. 
She would drop a wise sentence, or moral or holy apothegm, with 
which she was richly furnished from her own making, or her collec- 
tion, that suited with, or was not very remote from, what was talked 
of, and by commending, or improving, that she would turn the conver- 
sation into a useful channel without offense, and even with pleasure. 
She indeed kept a book of such weighty sayings ; much valuing sen- 
tences which contained much use and worth in a little compass. 
The following were a few out of the many. 

The almost Christian is the unhappiest of men ; having religion 
enough to make the world hate him, and yet not enough to make 
God love him. 

The servants of God should be as bold for their master, as the 
servants of the devil are for theirs. 

O Lord, what I give thee doth not please thee, unless I give thee 
myself. So what thou givest me shall not satisfy me, unless thou 
give me thyself. 

O Lord, who givest grace to the humble, give me grace to be 
humble. 

He loves God too little, who loves any thing with him, which he 
loves not for him. 

So speak to God as though men heard thee ; so speak to men, as 
knowing God hears thee. 

7 



50 MEMOIRS OF 

We should meditate on Christ's cross till we are fastened as close 
to him as he was to the cross. 

By how much the more vile Christ made himself for us, by so 
much the more precious should he be to us. 

He who takes up Christ's cross aright, shall find it such a burden 
as wings to a bird, or sails to a ship. 

It is a great honor to be almoner to the King of heaven. To give 
is the greatest luxury. How indulgent then is God to annex future 
rewards to what is so much its own recompense ! 

To be libelled for Christ is the best panegyric. 

Where affliction is heavy, sin is light. 

Sin brought death into the world, and nothing but death will carry 
sin out of it. 

The best shield against slanderers is to live so that none may be- 
lieve them. 

He who revenges an injury, acts the part of an executioner ; he 
who pardons it, acts the part of a prince. 

Why are we so fond of life that begins with a cry, and ends with 
a groan ? 

Where this excellent lady had particular kindness, or personal in- 
terest, she would improve the authority of her friendship in free dis- 
courses and arguments, and plead the cause of God and their own 
souls, with such eloquence, that it was hard to resist the spirit with 
which she spake. " Let me," says the minister who writes her life, 
and was many years well acquainted with her, "echo from her lips, 
though alas! too faintly, how she would, with melting charms and 
powerful strains, make her attempts upon the friends for whom she 
had a kindness, and whom she longed to rescue from ruin. 

"Come, come, my friend, you must be good ; you shall be good. 
I cannot be so unkind, nay, so unfaithful to the laws of friendship, 
as to let you persist and perish in a way which you know as well as 
I, leads down to hell. It grieves my very soul to have so good a na- 
ture insnared against the dictates of its own light by bad example, 
custom, or any thing else." If they replied with excuses, she would 
stop them thus : " Pray, my friend, have patience ; hear me out. 
I know, or guess at least, what you would say, and I would not have 
you say it. It is bad to commit sin, but it is worse to plead for it, 
and defend it. None sin so dangerously as those who sin with ex- 
cuses. The devil then plants a new snare, when he gets into our 
tongues, to fasten us to our failings, or when he raises an outwork in 
our own mouths, to secure the fort be possesses in our hearts. I 
take it for granted, that all other holds were quitted easily, could 
you conquer such or such a vice, too much by custom prevailing 
over you. Unhappy custom that dares prescribe against God's law! 
But, friend, use no arguments that will not hold at the day of judg- 
ment ; though hand join in hand, you know what follows. No ex- 
ample, custom, number, should have power over us which cannot 



THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 51 

excuse and secure us. But this is the mischief of sin lived in ; it 
bewitches the heart to love it so, that it cannot leave it. CANNOT ! 
So men love to speak, but it is because they will not • that is, will 
use no endeavors to be rid of it. But, my friend, you must leave 
it; there is no remedy, though it cost you trouble, smart, and self- 
denial. There is as much as all this comes to, in cutting off a right 
hand, and plucking out a right eye. I speak to you as to one in 
whom I have a party to help me plead, I mean your conscience, 
and the belief of the Scriptures ; for, if you were one of those on 
whom you know I use to set my mark, I would not give you this 
trouble, nor esteem myself under more than the laws of general 
charity to wish you better, and should hardly venture my little skill 
to make you so. But as for you, who still own God's authority, and 
believe his word, and attend his worship ; why should 1 despair of 
making one part of yourself agree with the other, your practice with 
your convictions, your conversation with your conscience ? And not 
to terrify you with the thunder-claps of wrath and vengeance, and 
God's judging you know whom — Listen to the still voice. It is your 
peculiar eminency to be kind and grateful : and because there is a 
kind of magnetic virtue in these arguments which touches our tem- 
per, I shall attack you on that side, hoping the strongest excellency 
of your nature will prove the weakest defensative for sin, and to 
keep out God. You therefore who are so good-natured, so kind, so 
grateful, that you never think you have acquitted yourself sufficiently 
to those who have been civil, or, as you are pleased to call it, obli- 
ging, Oh ! how can you be so unkind and so ungrateful to God Al- 
mighty, the kindest friend, who is so much beforehand with you, 
who hath given you so much good, and is so ready to forgive you all 
your sins ? O that you, who, I dare say, would take my word for 
any thing else, would do me the honor to take my word for him, 
who, I assure you, upon your sincere repentance, will be fully recon- 
ciled to you in Christ, and never so much as upbraid your past neg- 
lects, but heal your backslidings, and love you freely. And do not 
fear you shall have cause to repent of your repentance. No man 
was ever yet a loser by God, and you shall not be the first. You 
shall not lose your pleasures, but exchange them ; defiling ones, for 
them which are pure and ravishing. And let it not seem strange, or 
incredible to you, that there should be such things as the pleasures 
of religion, because, perhaps, you never felt them. Alas ! you have 
deprived yourself unhappily, by being incapable of them. New wine 
must be put into new bottles. To say nothing of what the Scriptures 
speak of a day in God's courts being better than a thousand, and of 
joys unspeakable, and full of glory, of the great peace they have 
who keep God's law, and that nothing shall offend them, and that 
wisdom's ways are pleasantness, let my weakness reason out the case 
with you. Do you think that God's angels, who excel in all perfec- 
tion, have no delight becaase they have no flesh, no sense, no bodies, 



52 MEMOIRS OF 

as men and beasts ? Or have our souls, the angels in these houses of 
clay, which are God's images, and the price of his blood, no objects, 
no employments, which may yield them delight and satisfaction ? 
Think not so unworthily of God, or so meanly of yourself. Have 
not the strokes of your own fancy, or the intellectual pleasures of 
your mind, sometimes transported you beyond all the charms of your 
senses, when they have chimed all in tune together ? And cannot 
God, think you, who is a spirit, and so fit an object for our souls, 
give them as great pleasures as any object of our taste and sight ? 
Come, come, my friend, take my word for it, there is more pleasure 
in the peace of a good conscience, in the well-grounded hope that 
our sins are pardoned, in serving God, and in the expectation of 
eternal life, than in all the pleasures in the world. Alas ! I was 
once of your mind ; but I assure you, upon my word, I have really 
found more satisfaction in serving God, than ever I found in all the 
good things of this life, of which, you know, I have had my share. 
Try therefore ; dare to be good, resolve to be so thoroughly. If 
you do not find it much better than I have told you, never take my 
word, or trust me more." 

Thus, and much more powerfully, would our lady's zeal for their 
good, cause her to argue with her friends, that she might by holy 
violence attract and allure them to be good and happy. 

She took great care of the souls of her servants ; and if she had 
any ambition in her, it was to be the mistress of a religious family. 
This appeared, among others, in the following particulars : in exact- 
ing their attendance on the public worship of God, and reverent be- 
havior there : in personal instruction, and familiar persuasion of 
them : in preparing them for, and exhorting them to the frequent 
participation of the Lord's Supper : in dispersing good books in all 
the common rooms and places of attendance, that they who were in 
waiting might not lose their time, but well employ it : and in making 
religion in her servants the step to their preferment ; for she used to 
make the hundred and first psalm the rule of her economics ; and 
though she treated all her servants as friends, yet they were her fa- 
vorites which most remarkably feared the Lord. 
, The good countess had learned St. Paul's lesson to perfection, 
"to speak evil of no man." Where she could not speak in com- 
mendation, the worst injury she would do was to be silent, unless it 
was to some single friend, of whose taciturnity she was secured by 
experience. Nor would she invidiously diminish the just praises of 
any who deserved them, but would study to extenuate their other 
failings by presenting the bright sides of their characters to conceal 
their dark ones. 

As a wife, it may be truly said, that the heart of her husband safe- 
ly trusted in her ; and that she did him good, and not evil, all the 
days of her life. Never was woman more truly a crown or orna- 
ment to a man. She always lived with the sense of the covenant 



THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 63 

of God which was between them, upon her heart. She was an equal 
mixture of affectionate obedience and obedient affection. She cov- 
ered and concealed his infirmities, deeply sympathized in his long in- 
dispositions, attended and relieved him with the greatest tenderness, 
and above all loved his soul, and would both counsel him with a pru- 
dent zeal, and pray for him with the strongest ardor and fervency. 
And he was not wanting in her just praises. He hath with vehement 
protestations declared, "he had rather have her with five thousand 
pounds, though she brought him much more, than any woman living 
with twenty." When the torrents of his sorrow were highest for 
the death of his only son, he made it the deepest accent of his grief, 
"that it would kill his wife," which, he said, "was more to him than 
an hundred sons." But actions speak louder than words : he gave 
her his whole estate, as an honorable testimony of his grateful esteem 
of her merits towards him, and left her sole executrix. Which trust, 
though it cost her almost unspeakable labor and difficulties, she dis- 
charged with such indefatigable pains, such conscientious exactness, 
and amazing prudence, that as she failed not of one tittle of his will 
till all was executed, so she never gave or left occasion for the least 
complaining from any interested person, but rendered all more than 
silent, satisfied, more than satisfied, applauding and admiring her 
prudent and honorable management of that great affair : an event 
which she owned to God with much thankfulness, as no small mercy 
and blessing to her. As for that noble estate which was to descend 
to others after her, she would not have wronged it in the least, to 
have gained the disposal of the whole ; and therefore was at vast 
expenses in repairs, both of the mansion and the farms, though she 
herself had them only for a term. It may be also truly said con- 
cerning her, that though none were more ready to recede from their 
own right terminating in personal interests, yet that she was very 
strict and tenacious in whatever might concern her successors, usu- 
ally saying, "that, whatever she lost herself, she would never give 
occasion for them who came after her, to say that she had hurt their 
estates, or wronged her trust, or them." 

She was an incomparable mother, as appeared in the education of 
her son, the hopeful young Lord Rich*, who went to the grave be- 
fore her, and afterwards of three young ladies her nieces, to whom 
she was in kindness an own mother, though she was only an aunt in- 
law. As they were left with less plentiful portions, she would, even 
during her son's life, never leave pressing her lord to make noble 
provisions for them, suitable to their birth and qualities. 

She was a most tender and indulgent landlady, and would usually 
say of her tenants, " Alas ! poor creatures, they take a great deal of 



* Her historian tells us that she was never the mother of more than two chHdren ; 
a daughter, who died young, and this promising young gentleman, whom he here 
mentions with honor. 



54 MEMOIRS OF 

pains ; and I love to see them thrive and live comfortably, and I can- 
not bear to see them brought into straits, and would therefore, with- 
out grudging or difficulty, have all things made convenient for them." 
And if they had sustained any considerable losses, she would effec- 
tually consider them. As for her copyhold tenants, she would urge 
with warmth the timely finishing the rolls of her courts, and the de- 
livery of their copies, declaring, " that she could not in conscience 
suffer these things to be neglected, because it was all they had to 
shew for their estates." A piece of justice this, not more honorable 
than necessary in lords and ladies of manors. 

As a neighbor she was so kind and courteous, that it advanced the 
rent of adjacent houses to be in such a near situation to her. Not 
only her house and table, but her very countenance and heart, were 
open to all persons of quality for a considerable circuit ; and for the 
inferior sort, if they were sick, or tempted, or in any distress of 
body or mind, to whom should they apply but to the good countess 
for assistance and relief? She supplied them with surgical assistance 
and physic ; and herself, (for she would personally visit the meanest 
among them,) and the ministers whom she would send to them, were 
their spiritual physicians. 

As her soul was filled with the love of God, so she expressed her 
love to men in the most exuberant munificence to all who stood in 
need of it. In her charity she was forward to her power, yea, and 
beyond her power ; for she would even anticipate her revenue and 
incomes, rather than restrain or suspend her liberality. She would 
not live poor in good works, to die rich as to this world's goods. She 
made her own hands her executors, and they were very faithful to 
her enlarged heart. 

When she had, in her lord's life-time, a separate allowance settled 
by marriage articles, she consulted with a minister, with whom she 
was well acquainted, what proportion persons are obliged to conse- 
crate to God of their substance. The minister told her, " that it 
was hard, if not impossible, to fix a rule which should hold universal- 
ly, and that the circumstances in which persons stood, their quali- 
ties, their incomes, their dependencies, must be considered, neces- 
sary and emergent occasions inevitably occurring." On her insist- 
ing on a more particular answer as to herself, what would be fit and 
becoming her to do, the minister, who was no stranger to her cir- 
cumstances, suggested, " that a seventh part, he supposed, would 
be a fit proportion of her substance for charitable uses." Before he 
could assign his reasons, she replied, " that she would never give less 
than the third part." Accordingly she kept her resolution to the 
full, and with advantage, laying aside constantly that proportion for 
charity, and even sometimes borrowing from the other proportions to 
add to it, but never making free with that to serve her own occasions, 
though sometimes pressing enough. 



THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. DO 

When she came to the possession of the very large estate her 
lord bequeathed her for her life, she in good measure realized what 
a great person was reported to say, " that the Earl of Warwick had 
given all his estate to pious uses," intending, that by giving it to his 
countess it would be converted to these purposes. All the satisfac- 
tion, as she declared, that she took in such large possessions being 
put into her hands, was the opportunity they afforded her of doing 
e;ood ; and she averred that she should not accept of, or be encum- 
bered with the greatest estate in England, if it should be offered her, 
if it was clogged with this condition, that she was not to do good to 
others with it. 

Such was the amiable and exemplary life of the Countess 
of Warwick. It remains that some account should be given of her 
death. 

What presages she had of its near approach she never discovered, 
but her preparations for it had been for a long time habitual. Death 
was one of the most constant subjects of her thoughts ; and she used 
to call her walking to meditate upon it, her going to take a turn with 
death, so that it could never surprise or take her unprepared, who 
was always ready for it. 

Yet there are some particulars worthy of our remark, of the watch- 
ful kindness of Providence over the people of God, alarming them 
to trim their lamps, as the wise virgins did, against the coming of the 
bridegroom, and allowing them fit opportunities to do it, as Provi- 
dence signally did to this good lady. 

The following transcript from her diary contains an account of the 
last Lord's day of her health, being written but the very day before 
she was taken ill ; whence it should seem that the thoughts of her 
dissolution were impressed upon her soul in a remarkable manner, 
though at that time there were no visible symptoms of it upon her 
body. 

"March 24, 1678. — As soon as I awoke I blessed God. I then 
meditated and endeavored, by thinking of some of the great mercies 
of my life, to stir up my heart to give glory to God. These thoughts 
had this effect upon me, to melt my heart much by the love of God, 
and to warm it with love to him. 

" Next I prayed, and was enabled in that duty to pour out my soul 
to God. My heart was in it, and was carried out to praise God, and 
I was large in recounting many of his special mercies to me. While 
I was thus employed, I found my heart in a much more than ordinary 
manner excited to admire God for his goodness, and to love him. 
I found his love make deep impressions on me, and melting me into 
an unusual plenty of tears. 

" Those mercies, for which I was in an especial manner thankful, 
were the creation and redemption of the world, and for the gospel, 
and the sacraments, and for free grace, and the covenant of grace, and 



56 MEMOIRS OF 

for the excellent means of it I had enjoyed, and for the great patience 
God has exercised towards me before and since my conversion, and 
for checks of conscience when I had sinned, and for repentance when 
I had done so, and for sanctified affliction, and support under it, and 
for so large a portion of worldly blessings. 

" After I had begged a blessing upon the public ordinances, I went 
to hear Mr. Woodrooff. His text was, ' Pass the time of your so- 
journing here in fear.'" — After a summary account of the sermon, 
she goes on, " In the afternoon I heard again the same person on the 
same text." This sermon she also concisely and methodically re- 
capitulates, and then proceeds : " I was in a serious frame at both 
the sermons, and was by them convinced of the excellency of fear- 
ing God, and of employing the remainder of the term of my life in 
his service, and I resolved to endeavor to spend the residue of my 
time better. At both the minister's prayers I prayed with fervency. 
Afterwards I retired, and meditated upon the sermons, and prayed 
them over. I had also this evening large meditations of death and 
of eternity, which thoughts had this effect upon me, to beget in me 
an extraordinary awakened frame, in which the things of another 
life were much realized to me, and made very deep impressions 
upon me, and my soul followed hard after God for grace to serve 
him better than ever yet I had done. 

u O Lord, be pleased to hear my prayers, which came not out of 
feigned lips, and to hear the voice of my weeping for more holiness, 
and for being more weaned from the world, and all in it ! After 
supper I committed myself to God." 

Our excellent lady was far from being among their number, whose 
consciences are such bad and unquiet company that they hate soli- 
tude, and dare not be alone, for she loved retirement, and found in 
it her greatest satisfaction ; though, when she was called from it, she 
would deny her particular inclination to comply with a duty of press- 
ing necessity, or of larger extent. Thus she cheerfully sustained the 
hurry of business, which was inevitable, in discharging herself of the 
trust reposed in her by her lord's last will. 

But never did bird more joyfully clap its wings when disentangled 
from a net, or delivered from the prison of its cage, than she solaced 
herself upon her withdrawment from the bustle and crowd of earthly 
concerns. And when her dearest sister was, in the beginning of the 
winter before she died, about to leave her, she took her farewell of 
her in these words : " Now I have done my drudgery, (intending her 
attention to worldly affairs,) I will set to the renewing my preparations 
for eternity ;" and accordingly she made it the repeated business of 
the following winter. 

In the beginning of March, 1678, she set to the making of her 
will anew, and signed and sealed it on the twelfth day of the same 
month, and on the Tuesday, March 26, was taken with some indis- 
position, loss of appetite, and aguish distemper, and had four or five fits, 



THE COUNTESS OF WARWICK. 57 

which yet, in that season, were judged, both by her physicians and 
friends, more beneficial to her health, than threatening to her life. 
She continued afterwards free from her fits till Friday the 12th of 
April ; on which day she rose in tolerable strength, and after sitting 
up some time, being laid upon her bed, she discoursed cheerfully and 
piously. One of the last sentences she spoke, having turned back 
the curtain with her hand, being this most friendly and divine one, 
" Well, ladies, if I were one hour in heaven, 1 would not be again 
with you, as much as I love you." 

Having then received a kind visit from a neighboring lady, at her 
departure she rose from her bed to her chair, in which being set, she 
said she would go into her bed, but first would desire one of the 
ministers then in the house to pray with her ; and asking the compa- 
ny which they would have, presently resolved herself to have him 
who was going away, because the other would stay and pray with 
her daily. He was immediately sent to, and came. Her ladyship, 
sitting in her chair on account of her weakness, for otherwise she 
always kneeled, and holding an orange in her hand to which she 
smelt, almost in the beginning of the prayer was heard to fetch a sigh, 
or groan, which was esteemed devotional ; but a gentlewoman who 
kneeled by her looking up, saw her look pale, and her hand hang 
down ; at which she started up affrighted, and all applied themselves 
to assist her ladyship, the minister catching hold of her right hand, 
which had then lost its pulse, nor ever recovered it more. 

Thus died, in the fifty-fourth year of her age, this right honor- 
able lady, this most eminent pattern of zeal for the glory of God, 
and charity for the good of men : she died in the actual exercise of 
prayer, according to her own desire, for there were many that could 
witness that they had often heard her say, " that if she might choose 
the manner and circumstances of her death, she would die praying." 

We shall annex to the Memoirs of this worthy lady, specimens of 
her own numerous compositions. Among her meditations on various 
subjects we find the following. 

Meditation, on considering the different manner of the working of 
a Bee and a Spider. 

While I am attending to this despicable spider, which, despicable 
as it is, yet has some of its kind that have the honor to inhabit the 
courts of the most glorious potentates, for the inspired volumes tell 
us, that they are in kings' palaces*, 1 am led to consider that the work 
he is so busily employed in, while he spins his web, entirely out of 
his own bowels, without having any help from any thing without him, 
is when it is finished good for nothing, but is soon brushed down and 



* Prov. xxx 28: 
8 



58 MEMOIRS, 8iC. 

flung away ; while the industrious Bee, who is busily employed in 
making his useful combs, daily flies abroad to enable him to do so, 
and, flying from one flower to another, gathers from each of them 
that which both renews his own strength, and yields sweetness to 
others. 

By the Spider's work I am minded of a formalist or proud pro- 
fessor, who works all from himself and his own strength, and never 
goes out of himself to get strength for his performances, or to work 
by, and therefore his thin-spun righteousness is good for nothing, and 
will be thrown away. 

The Bee's going abroad is an emblem of the real Christian, who 
is renewed in the spirit of his mind, and, that he may be enabled to 
work the great work for which he came into the world, he goes out 
to an ordinance, and to Christ in a promise for strength by which to 
work, and thus obtains it, and this makes his work yield honey, and 
turn to advantage. 

O Lord, I most humbly beseech thee let me not dare to work for 
myself, but let me go out daily to thee for ability, with which to work 
my great and indispensable work, that I may deny my own righteous- 
ness, and make mention of thine only, and find such sweetness from 
every ordinance and promise, that my soul may be like a garden which 
the Lord hath blessed, and may exceedingly thrive and prosper ! 

We shall now give one of her pious reflections on several passages 
of Scripture. 

REFLECTION ON PSALM Cxix, 136. 

Rivers of waters run down my eyes, because men keep not thy law. 

Lord when I read in thy word of the man after thine own heart 
thus speaking, and yet consider that I am so far from imitating him, 
that 1 can many times suffer sin to be upon my brother, without so 
much as giving him a reproof for it, or advising him so much as to 
consider whom he offends by it ; nay, that I am ready to smile at 
that which is a grief to thine Holy Spirit, I beseech thee, O Lord ! 
to humble me under this consideration, and to make me, for time to 
come, to imitate holy David in my charity towards my offending 
brother, and with thy servant Lot, let my soul be vexed in hearing 
and seeing the filthy conversation of the wicked.* O let me be so 
charitable as to weep over the soul of my offending brother ; and let 
me, as much as in me lies, deliver him out of the snare of sin, and 
by my prayers, and holy example, help him towards heaven ! 



2 Pet. ii. 8. 






59 



LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 



This lady was born at Wigsale in Sussex, January, 1601. Her 
father was Thomas Culpepper, of Wigsale, esquire, a branch of an 
ancient, genteel family of that name, which was afterwards in her 
brother advanced to the rank of the nobility. He was created a bar- 
on by King Charles the First, with the title of John Lord Culpep- 
per, of Thoresway. Her mother was the daughter of Sir Stephen 
Slaney. 

Thus she had thG favor of an honorable extraction, and a noble 
alliance ; and as her family conferred an honor upon her, so she re- 
flected an additional glory upon her family by her great virtues, hav- 
ing been one of the most accomplished persons of the age, whether 
considered as a lady, or a Christian. 

While she was in her infancy she lost her mother, and in her child- 
hood her father, so that she came early under the more peculiar care 
and patronage of God, who is in an especial manner the Father of 
the fatherless. 

Her first education was under her grandmother on the mother's 
side, the Lady Slaney. 

She had rare endowments of nature, an excellent mind, lodged in 
a fine form, and under a beautiful aspect, the traces of which were 
discernible even in her old age. She had an extraordinary quickness 
of apprehension, a rich fancy, great solidity of judgment, and a reten- 
tive memory. 

She was married very young, about nineteen, to Sir Robert Brooke, 
knt. descended from a younger brother of the ancient and noble fam- 
ily of the Brookes, formerly Lord Cobham. Sir Robert was a per- 
son of good estate, and of virtuous character. He lived with her six 
and twenty years, and died July 10, 1646. Their children were 
three sons, and four daughters. 

Sir Robert Brooke and his lady continued the two first years of 
their marriage in London, as boarders in the house of the Lady 
Weld, her aunt. Thence they removed to Langly in Hertfordshire, 
a seat which Sir Robert purchased purposely for his lady's accom- 
modation, that she might be near her friends in London. After some 
years' residence there, they came to Cockfield in Suffolk, his pater- 
nal seat, where she passed the residue of her life, excepting the two 
first years of her widowhood. In all these places she lived an emi- 
nent example of goodness, and left a good name behind her, and es- 
pecially in the last, where she passed the most, and best of her time, 
and whence her soul was translated to heaven. 



60 MEMOIRS OF 

She had many accomplishments, which recommended her to all 
who had the happiness of knowing her. But the greatest glory that 
shone in her, was that of religion, in which she was not only sincere, 
but excelled. 

To which general head the following particulars may be referred, 
as the distinct jewels in her crown of righteousness. 

She devoted herself to God and religion very early in life, remem- 
bering her Creator in the days of her youth, and making haste, and 
delaying not to keep his commandments. And as she begun, so she 
continued with great steadiness, her walk with God through the course 
of a long life ; so that she was not only an aged person, but, which is 
a great honor in the church of God, an old disciple. 

As she thus early applied herself to religion in the power and strict- 
ness of it, so her good parts, industry, length of time, and the use of 
excellent books, and converse with learned men uniting together, 
rendered her one of the most intelligent persons of her sex, especial- 
ly in divinity and the holy Scriptures, which made her wise unto sal- 
vation. 

This knowledge of the sacred writings was not confined to the 
practical, but extended also to the doctrinal and critical part of the 
book of God, even to the difficulties concerning Scripture-chronolo- 
gy, and the solution of many of them. 

She was able to discourse pertinently upon any of the great heads 
of theology. She could oppose an Atheist by arguments drawn 
from the topics in natural theology ; and answer the objections of 
other erroneous minds by the weapons provided against them in the 
holy Scriptures. 

Though she was not skilled in the learned languages, she had so 
great a knowledge in divinity that no scholar could repent the time 
spent in converse with her, for she could bear such a part in discour- 
ses of theology, whether didactical, polemical, casuistical, or tex- 
tual, that some of her chaplains have professed that her conversation 
has been sometimes more profitable and pleasant than their own stu- 
dies, and that they themselves learned, as well as taught. 

This perhaps may seem incredible to those who were not acquain- 
ted with her ; but something of the wonder will be abated, by shew- 
ing in what manner she attained her treasures of knowledge. 

She was an indefatigable reader of books, especially of the Scrip- 
tures, and various commentators upon them, the very best our lan- 
guage afforded. She had turned over a multitude not only of prac- 
tical treatises, but also of learned books ; and, among many others, 
some of those of the ancient philosophers translated into English, 
gathering much light from those luminaries among the heathens, so 
that she could interpose with wisdom in a discourse purely philosoph- 
ical. 

She was also a most diligent inquirer, and made use of all learned 
men of her acquaintance, in order to increase her knowledge, by 



LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 61 

moving questions concerning the most material things, as cases of 
conscience, hard texts of Scripture, and the accomplishmant of 
the divine prophecies. 

She generally also took notes out of the many books she read, 
that she might with the less labor recover the ideas without reading 
the books a second time. 

She was very industrious to preserve what either instructed her 
mind, or affected her heart, in the sermons she had heard. To 
these she gave great attention, while they were preaching, and had 
them repeated in her family. After all this, she would discourse of 
them in the evening, and in the following week she had them re- 
peated, and would discourse upon them to some of her family in her 
chamber. Besides all this, she wrote the substance of them, and 
digested many of them into questions and answers, or under heads 
of common places, and thus they became to her matter for repeated 
meditation. By these methods she was always enlarging her knowl- 
edge, or confirming what she had already known. 

Having thus acquired a great treasure of knowledge, she improved 
it, through Divine assistance, which she was most ready to acknowl- 
edge, into a suitable practice, working out her salvation with fear 
and trembling, and being zealous of good works. 

Her piety was exact, laying rules upon herself in all things ; and 
it was also universal, having a respect to all God's commandments, 
equally regarding the two tables of the law ; and it may be truly add- 
ed, that it was also constant and affectionate. Her whole heart was 
given up to religion, and an holy zeal accompanied it, which zeal 
was guided by much wisdom and prudence; her prudence never de- 
generating into craft, there being nothing apparent in all her conver- 
sation contrary to sincerity. 

Her piety also was serious, solid and substantia], without any tinc- 
ture of enthusiasm, though at the same time she had a great regard 
to the Spirit of God, as speaking in the Scriptures, and by them 
guiding the understanding and operating upon the heart. 

As her own practice was holy, so she endeavored that her family 
might walk in the same steps, providing for them the daily help of 
prayer morning and evening, with the reading of the Scriptures, 
and on the Lord's day the repetition of what was preached in the 
public congregation. And for their further benefit, she for many 
years together procured a grave divine to perform the office of a cat- 
echist in her house, who came constantly every fortnight, and ex- 
pounded methodically the principles of religion, and examined the 
servants. This work was done by her chaplains till the service of 
God in her family, and the care of the parish, centered in one per- 
son. Thus, with Joshua, she resolved that she and her house would 
serve the Lord. 

With her piety was joined much christian love, which was univer- 
sal, and extended to all mankind , so that she never suffered her- 



62 MEMOIRS OF 

self to hate or despise, or overlook, unless in the way of censure 
for a crime, any persons in the world, abhorring only what was vi- 
cious and evil in them. 

But this universal charity admitted a difference, so that, as the 
more Christian and holy any persons were, they had more of her re- 
gard. That image of God that shone out in a good conversation 
she could not overlook in any, though in some respects they might 
be less acceptable to her ; as she valued grace above all the accom- 
plishments of parts, breeding, and agreement in smaller things. 

While all were dear to her in whom the fear of God appeared, she 
had a most peculiar regard for his ambassadors and ministers, the 
guides of souls, receiving them in their ministrations as angels of God, 
fearing the Lord, and obeying the voice of his servants, esteeming 
what they delivered in harmony with the holy Scriptures as his word 
and message. 

She was very exact in matters of justice, and in rendering to all 
their dues. She could not endure to have any thing without a title 
in conscience as well as law ; and was particularly tender in refer- 
ence to tithes, giving away all she held by that title to him who 
took the care of the souls, and reserving only a little portion yearly 
for repairing the edifices. 

Her almsgiving was very great, and drew the admiration of all 
who observed it, though they were acquainted with only some part 
of it. Every one who needed it received it in proportion to his ne- 
cessities, and in the kind that was most suitable to his particular wants. 
She esteemed herself only as a steward of her estate, and therefore 
gave away a great portion of it to encourage the ministry, and re- 
lieve the indigent. She dispersed abroad, and gave to the poor, 
and her righteousness remains for ever. She most frequently cast 
her bread upon the waters, and gave a portion to seven, and to eight, 
and lent much to the Lord. All this she did cheerfully and willing- 
ly, and was so ready to do these good works, that, when there was 
any occasion that solicited her charity, it was never any question 
with her whether she should give, or not give, but only in what pro- 
portion she should communicate her bounty ; and that she might fix 
the proportion she would many times most frankly refer herself to 
others, saying, "I will give whatever you think is meet and fit in this 
case," having in this respect a heart as large as the sand upon the 
sea-shore, and a most open and bountiful hand. 

And as the poor were blessed with her charity in abundance, so 
her friends, who needed not that kind of benevolence, were witness- 
es of her great liberality and goodness, by which she adorned reli- 
gion, and won over many to speak well concerning it. 

Her generosity was such, that one would have imagined there was 
no room for her alms ; and her charity was such, that it was matter 
of wonder that she could so nobly entertain her friends. But her 
provident frugality and good management, with the divine blessing, 
enabled her to perform both to admiration. 



LADV ELIZABETH BROOKE. 63 

Her charity was not only extended for the relief of the wants of 
others' bodies, but she also most readily afforded counsel and com- 
fort to such as applied to her for assistance in the greater concerns 
of their souls, though of meaner rank and condition in the world. 
To such she would address herself wisely, such she would hear with 
patience, and such she would treat with compassion, when under 
temptations and disquietude of soul. Upon one of her servants 
coming to her closet on this account, and beginning to open to her 
the grief of her mind, she required her for that time to forget that 
she was a servant, and having discoursed to her with great tenderness 
and prudence in reference to her temptations, she dismissed her re- 
lieved, and much revived. Very many others she received with the 
greatest freedom, ministering spiritual comfort to them. 

That part of religion which is particularly styled devotion, was the 
solace of her life, and the delight of her soul. A considerable por- 
tion of her time was every day employed in prayer, in searching the 
Scriptures, and in holy meditations. These exercises were her 
proper element, and in them she would often profess she found her 
greatest consolation. In these she conversed with God, and was 
then least alone when most alone, for she did not merely perform 
these duties, nor generally engage in them as a task, but she observ- 
ed the frame of her spirit in them, and commanded the affections of 
her soul to wait upon God, not being satisfied without some emotions 
of mind suitable to those holy exercises, as she hath often professed, 
and as might be gathered from her complaining sometimes of her in- 
firmities, and of the difficulty of praying aright, and of preserving 
through the duty a due sense of God. 

The Christian Sabbath was her delight, and a day in God's courts 
was better to her than a thousand elsewhere, and her enjoyment of 
God in the public ordinances and services of that day was to her as 
a little heaven upon earth. The impressions she received by an at- 
tendance on these holy institutions were such as that she longed in 
the week for the return of the Sabbath, and great was her affliction 
when her hearing was so impaired, that she could not attend the pub- 
lic worship of God, though few were better furnished to supply the 
want by private exercises and closet devotions. 

What challenges our admiration is, that this lady, in the midst of 
all these attainments, virtues, and graces, was deeply humble, and 
clothed with the ornament of a lowly spirit. While many were fill- 
ed with wonder at the example she exhibited to the world, she her- 
self apprehended that others excelled her in grace, and godliness, 
and continually reckoned herself among the least of saints ; and the 
writer of her life* declares, "that notwithstanding her quality in the 
world, her exquisite knowledge, eminent grace, and the high value 

* The Rev. Nathaniel Parkhurst, M. A., vicar of Yoxford, and chaplain to her 
ladyship. 



64 MEMOIRS OF 

her friends had justly of her, he could never perceive, in the whole 
course of eighteen years' converse, the least indication of vain-glory, 
or self-admiration in her." 

Her humility appeared to be of an excellent kind, the fruit of 
great knowledge, proceeding also from a deep sense of the fall, the 
corruption of human nature, the imperfection of mortification in the 
present life, and the remains of sin in the souls of them who are 
sanctified. It was also nourished by a great sight of God, and ac- 
quaintance with him, by frequent self-examination, by an observation 
how sin mingles itself in our best actions and most holy duties, and a 
diligent trial of herself and her conversation with the exact rules of 
the Scriptures. 

This grace of Christian humility was the more illustrious in her by 
the accession of the virtue of courtesy, which she possessed in a high 
degree, entertaining all persons with civilities proper to their several 
qualities ; so that she obliged all, at the same time being ever careful 
that nothing in conversation might border upon those freedoms which 
dishonor God and blemish the Christian profession ; in this manner 
adorning the gospel, and evincing that religion, though it requires 
great strictness, yet does not involve in it either melancholy or mo- 
roseness. And, which is a much greater thing than to be courteous 
in the highest degree, as a real disciple of Christ she had learned to 
deny herself, and could abridge her own right, that she might there- 
by promote the glory of God, do good to others, avoid offense, and 
maintain love and peace in the church and the world. 

And which may be properly subjoined to her self-denial, as a grace 
equal to it, she industriously avoided censoriousness, and endeavored 
to put the best interpretation of both words and actions, not lightly 
speaking evil of any, nor readily receiving an evil report. Above all 
things she abhorred censoriousness in reference to preachers and ser- 
mons, of which she was a most candid and equal hearer, sufficiently 
judicious and critical, but not in the least captious. If but truth 
were spoken, and piety enforced in any ordinary method, she was 
satisfied so as not to find fault. But the discourses she preferred 
were either discourses peculiarly rational, or such as particularly il- 
lustrated the sense of Scripture, or unfolded the excellency of the 
gospel, or such as displayed Christ in his person, undertaking, and 
offices, or such as discovered the difference between the real and 
almost Christian, and such as most nearly approached the conscience, 
and urged the exactest conversation, and the government of the heart, 
thoughts, and inward affections. 

In all her relations she behaved herself as a Christian. She was 
a faithful, dutiful, affectionate, and prudent wife. She was a watch- 
ful mother, restraining her children from evil, and bringing them up 
in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, most constantly endeav- 
oring to instil into their minds the principles of justice, holiness, and 
charity. To them who became her children by marrying into her 



LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 65 

family, she was most kind, and treated them as her own. To her 
servants and tenants she was just and good ; and to her neighbors 
she was, in one word, all that they could desire. 

To her particular friends she was endeared by her prudence, fidel- 
ity, and almost excesses of love, and the improvement of friendship 
to serve the great puposes of religion, the honoring of God, and the 
benefiting one another. 

Many more things might be added to this account of her attain- 
ments, graces, and virtues ; but all may be summed up in this short 
character. 

She had the knowledge of a divine, the faith, holiness, and zeal of 
a Christian, the wisdom of the serpent, and the innocency of the 
dove. She had godliness in its power, and spread a glory over her 
profession. She was serious, but not melancholy, and cheerful with- 
out any tincture of levity. She was very holy and humble, and thank- 
ful to God for all his mercies, having a deep sense of her need of 
Christ the Mediator, depending entirely upon his merits and satisfac- 
tion, and renouncing all her works in the article of justification- 

By these excellences she attained a good, and, which she never 
sought, a great name. 

A person of quality and great learning, who loved to speak much 
in a few words, having observed her gravity, holiness, prudence, and 
freedom from all that was little, humorsome, or morose, declared, 
"that she was a woman of a generous piety." 

Another drew up her character in Latin, in these words: "Ingenio 
mascula, mente theologa, ore gravis, corde sancta, cultu intensa, ca- 
ritate laeta, crucis patiens, tota moribus generosa ; marito Sara, libe- 
ris Eunice, nepotibus Lois, ministris Lydia, hospitibus Martha, 
pauperibus Dorcas, Deo Anna.' 

IN ENGLISH. 

She had a mind great by nature, 

And enriched with the knowledge of a divine, 

She was venerable in her aspect, 

Pure in heart, 

Intense in her devotions, 

Cheerful in her charity, 

Patient in tribulation, 

And in the whole of her behavior a complete 

Gentlewoman. 

In her concentered the various excellences of the several eminent 
women on sacred record. 

She was a Sarah to her husband, 

An Eunice to her children, 

A Lois to her grandchildren, 

9 



66 MEMOIRS OF 

A Lydia to Ministers, 
A Martha to her guests, 

A Dorcas to the poor, 
And an Anna to her God. 

As the qualifications of this lady were great and eminent, so were 
the providences of God towards her, for she had great prosperities 
and interchangeably great afflictions. The first she received with 
humility, the last with patience. 

To her prosperities may be referred the great kindness of her hus- 
band, with a numerous family, and a very plentiful estate during his 
life, and a competent revenue afterwards in her widowhood ; a fine 
temperament of body, so that she was seldom sick though never 
strong ; the continuance of her powers, the vigor of her intellect, and 
the firmness of her judgment, even in the last years of her life ; the 
respects and civilities she received from the gentry in her neighbor- 
hood ; the blessing of long life ; the conclusion of some unkind law- 
suits, which as she did not begin, so she could not prevent ; and the 
seeing every remaining branch of her family amply provided for, and 
in a very comfortable condition, before her decease. And, which 
was more than all these, as the best of her prosperities, she enjoyed 
much inward peace ; which, though it had sometimes the interrup- 
tions of doubts and fears, was generally firm and steady, and was 
sometimes advanced into joys and strong consolation. 

Her afflictions were chiefly widowhood, and the loss of children. 
The sharpest of all her trials was me untimely death of her last son, 
with the aggravating circumstance of it, that of his being drowned. 
This great affliction came upon her like an inundation of waters, 
threatening; all the banks of reason and grace; but the presence and 
power of God supported her so, that she not only lived many years 
after the death of her son, but recovered in a great measure her 
former cheerfulness. Her behavior under this sad providence was 
truly Christian. She did not murmur, though at first she was aston- 
ished, and afterwards much depressed by it. Her danger was that 
of fainting under the correcting hand of God ; but she was upheld 
by him who is able to succor them that are tempted. She often ex- 
pressed herself in words importing that she justified God, and ac- 
knowledged his righteousness in the dispensation. She feared lest 
some might be scandalized, and reflect upon religion, and decline it, 
because of her deep affliction, and she most earnestly desired that 
God would take care of his own name and glory. Afterwards her 
spirit revived, and she was comforted as before, and rejoiced in the 
God of her salvation. 

The close of her life was a long languishing of several months, 
which gradually confined her, first to her chamber, then to her couch, 
and last of all to her bed, accompanied sometimes with great pains, 
in the endurance of which patience had its perfect work. During 



LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 67 

this sickness her mind was calm. Her conscience witnessed to her 
integrity, and she had a good hope in God that he would crown his 
grace in her with perseverance, and then with glory. She was very 
apprehensive of her need of Christ, adhered to him, rejoiced in 
him, and desired to be with him. She expired almost insensibly, 
and had an easy passage to that happiness, which is the reward of 
faith and holiness, and the free gift of God, through Jesus Christ 
our Lord. 

She left behind her, besides a great number of other writings, a 
book containing Observations, Experiences, and Rules for Practice, 
which, being a most lively image of her mind, may supply the de- 
fects of the narrative that has been given of her. and extracts from 
which we have thought proper to subjoin, in hopes that they may be 
of no little benefit to all pious readers. 

OBSERVATIONS AND EXPERIENCES, BY THE LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 

I. The Vanity of the World. 

All my comforts below are dying comforts. No one creature, nor 
all the creatures that ever I enjoyed, have given my soul satisfaction. 

II. Good Actions ivill bear Consideration, but Evil Actions will not. 

Every act of piety and obedience will bear consideration, but so 
will not any sinful action. If we consider before we attempt any 
sinful action, either we shall not commit it, or we shall do it with re- 
gret, and a conscience half set on fire. But if we consider before any 
holy action or duty, our revolving thoughts will much animate us to 
the service. Wherefore I hence conclude, that sin shames, and that 
religion justifies itself. 

III. The Worship of God is made pleasant by a Sense of his 
Presence in it. 

God's presence was formerly manifested by visible signs, as the 
cloud, fire, and brightness; but though we cannot expect these, yet 
we have the same especial presence of God with us ; and whenever 
by faith we attain any lively apprehensions of it, how solemn, profit- 
able, and delightful do they make the worship of God ! With what 
joy do they bring us to the public assemblies ! and how unwilling are 
we to be kept from them, when we have this expectation from them ! 
And finding our expectation in this respect answered, how devoutly 
do we behave ourselves in them ! And how joyfully do we return 
home, as they who have seen God, and conversed with him ! 

IV. It is our Interest to be religious. 

It is a most experienced truth, that we shall never be well recon- 
ciled to religion, and steady in piety, till we see it is our interest to 
be religious. 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

V. It is difficult to Pray without some wandering Thoughts in Prayer. 

It is very difficult to carry sincerity, and keep up a sense of God 
through every part of prayer, which is necessary to be endeavored, 
and is the life of the duty. I find it hard to keep my soul intent, 
for ray thoughts are slippery and swift, and my heart is snatched 
away sometimes against my will, and before I am aware, yea, even 
then sometimes when I have made the greatest preparation, and have 
had the greatest resolutions through grace to avoid wandering thoughts. 
My best prayers therefore need Christ's incense to perfume them. 

VI. A deep Sense of God in Prayer is desirable and ravishing. 

Could I understand my near approach to God in prayer it would 
exalt my soul above measure. And why am I not ravished with the 
thoughts of being in the presence of God, and having the ear, yea, 
the heart of the King of heaven ? It is nothing but want of faith, 
and the strange power of sense, that weaken my spiritual apprehen- 
sions, and keep me from an unspeakable delight in my addresses to 
God. What an high privilege is this to speak to the great Jehovah, 
as a child to a father, or a friend to a friend ! But how slow of heart 
am I to conceive the glory and happiness thereof! Could I but man- 
age this great duty as I ought, it would be an heaven upon earth, it 
would bring God down to me, or carry me up to him. Why should 
I not be carried above the world, when I am so near to God ? Why 
should I not be changed into the same image from glory to glory ? 
Why am I not even transported beyond myself? 

VII. We ought to be constant in Prayer. 

Inconstancy in prayer is not only sinful, but dangerous. Omission 
breeds dislike, strengthens corruption, discourages the spirit, and 
animates the unregenerate part. Constancy in this duty breeds an 
holy confidence towards God. Inconstancy breeds strangeness. 
Upon an omission I must never approach God again, or my next 
prayer must be an exercise of repentance for my last omission. 

VIII. Sincere Prayers are never offered in vain. 

Formality is apt to grow upon our secret prayers. One of the 
best ways to prevent it, is to come to God with an expectation. This 
sets an edge upon our spirits. I do not enough observe the returns 
of prayer, though God hath said, I shall never seek him in vain. 
But when I observe, I must acknowledge I have daily answers of 
my prayers in some kind or other. Nay, I think I may say I never 
offered a fervent prayer to God, but I received something from him, 
at least as to the frame of my own spirit. 

IX. Prayer promotes Piety, and Godliness, and Acquaintance with 

God. 
It is the Christian's duty in every thing to pray, and holiness lies 
at the bottom of this duty. If I in every thing commit myself to 



LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. 09 

God, I shall be sure to keep his ways, or my prayer will upbraid me. 
This keeps me from tempting him, and makes me careful to find a 
clear call in all I undertake, knowing that if I go only where I am 
sent, the angel of his presence will go before me, and my way 
will be cleared of all temptations and mischiefs. When our call is 
clear, our way is safe. Besides, the practice of this leads me into 
much acquaintance with God. My very praying is an acquainting 
myself with him ; and if in every thing I pray, I shall in every thing 
give thanks, and this still brings me into more acquaintance with him. 
By this means my life will be filled up with a going to and a return- 
ing from God. 

X. The real Christian loves Solitude. 

Solitude is no burthen to a real Christian. He is least alone when 
alone. His solitude is as busy and laborious as any part of his life. 
It is impossible to be religious indeed, and not in some measure to love 
solitude, for all duties of religion cannot be performed in public. It 
is also a thing as noble as it is necessary, to love to converse with our 
own thoughts. The vain mind does not more naturally love com- 
pany, than the divine mind doth frequent retirement. Such persons 
have work to do, and meat to eat, the world knows not of. Their 
pleasures are secret, and their chief delight is between God and 
themselves. The most pleasant part of their lives is not in but out of 
the world. 

XI. Religion gives us a real Enjoyment of God. 

The true Christian lives above himself, not only in a way of self- 
denial, but in the very enjoyment of God. His fellowship is with 
the Father and with the Son. He every where, and in every thing, 
seeks out God. In ordinances, duties, and providences, whether 
prosperous or adverse, nothing pleases unless God be found in them, 
or admitted into them. That is to him an ordinance indeed, in which 
he meets with God. That is a merciful providence indeed, in which 
there appears much of the finger of God. God is nearer to the true 
Christian than he is to others ; for there is an inward feeling, an in- 
tellectual touch, which carnal men have not. And herein lies the 
very soul of religion, and the quintessence of it, that it unites us in a 
nearness to God, and gives us already to enjoy him. 

XII. The Expectation of Death is profitable to a Christian. 

The serious expectation of death, not forgetting judgment, frees 
us from the afflicting, discomposing apprehensions of it. It is of great 
service to the Christian, it takes off the soul from carnal pleasures, 
covetous desires, and ambitious pursuits, and assists patience and con- 
tentment. It helps the Christian to redeem his time, prompts him 
to settle the affairs of his soul, to put his heart and house in order, 
and to leave nothing to be done to-morrow that may be done to-day. 



70 v MEMOIRS OF 

It excites to frequent examination, quickens repentance, and suffers 
him not to continue in sin. It assists fervency in prayer, as it drives 
away worldly cares, and helps against distractions ; for death is a 
solemn thing, and the thoughts of it breed a passion in the mind, and 
all soft passions cherish devotion. The expectation of death sweet- 
ens all labor, work, and duty, because of the everlasting rest to which 
death leads us. 

It moves us to pray for others, to counsel them, and do what we 
can for them. Thus death in the expectation of it is a blessing if 
we look for it as certain, and yet uncertain when it shall come, as 
followed with judgment, and as putting a full end to our state of trial. 
Thus death is ours. 

HER RULES FOR PRACTICE. 

I. Let love and charity be universal ; for no pretence whatever, 
no, not religion and zeal for God, can justify your not loving any per- 
son in the world. Treat all men with kindness, and wish them well. 
Do them good according to their necessity, and your power and op- 
portunity. If persons be above you, express your love to them, by 
paying them the honor and observance their place and authority 
call for. If they are in worldly respects beneath you, manifest your 
love by kindness, affability, and granting them an easy access to you. 
If they excel in natural or acquired endowments of mind, express 
your love to them by a due esteem of them. If they be rather 
wanting than excelling, shew your love by pitying them, and despise 
not their weakness. If any be in misery, compassionate them, pray 
for them, comfort them with your presence if you can reach them, and 
relieve them according to your power. If any be defamed, shew 
your love by stopping and rebuking the defamation. 

II. Be very careful not to harbor any evil affection in your heart 
against any person whatever, for though you are far from intending 
any actual mischief yet you tempt God to let loose your corruption, 
and his providence to permit an opportunity ; and so, ere you are 
aware, you may be drawn to an act you never before thought of. 
Besides, by an evil action harbored in your mind you will prevent 
the blessed illapses of the Spirit of God, and open a wide door for 
the entrance of the devil into your soul ; and indeed an unkind dis- 
position towards any man is so much akin to Satan that if you admit 
the one, you cannot exclude the other. 

III. Despise none, for love never rides in triumph over inferiors. 

IV. Look upon all unavoidable temptations as opportunities for an 
high exercise of grace. Are you injured ? be sorry for him who has 
done the wrong, and bless God for the opportunity of shewing your- 
self hereby to be a Christian, by patient bearing, forgiving, doing 
good against evil, treating your adversary with meekness, and break- 



LADY ELIZABETH BROOKE. , ] 71 

ing his heart with love. Every provocation is a price in your hand ; 
get an heart to improve it. 

V. Put a due value upon your name and reputation, but be not 
over solicitious about it, for that discovers some unmortified lust at 
the bottom. 

VI. Pursue piety under the notion of an imitation of God, and 
then so great a pleasure will result from it, that neither men nor dev- 
ils shall be able to make you question his being and attributes. 
This notion will raise an esteem of piety, will render it lovely, will 
make the several duties of religion more free and easy, and will 
gradually wear out the remains of unbelief, and unkind jealousies 
of God. 

VII. Let humility be the constant covering of your soul, and let 
repentance follow all your performances. This will demonstrate 
your religion is inward, for if religion be suffered to enter deep into 
the heart, it will always find work for repentance, while we are in 
the state of imperfection. 

VIII. Love nothing above God and Christ, for to love any thing 
more than God or Christ is the way either never to enjoy it, or to 
be soon deprived of it, or else to find yourself deceived in it. 

IX. Do nothing upon which you dare not ask God's blessing. 

X. Esteem time as your most precious talent, which when you 
bestow it upon any, you give them more than you can understand. 
All the power of men and angels cannot restore it to you again. 

XI. Never speak of religion for the sake of discourse and enter- 
tainment, but for the purpose of piety. 

XII. Upon the Lord's day consider in private the love of God in 
the several instances of it to yourself and the world, in Creation and 
Redemption, the promises of eternal life, the care of his providen- 
ces and his mercies to you, your friends and family ; and stay upon 
these considerations, till your heart be lifted up in his praise, and 
you can say with David, " Now will I go to God, my exceeding joy." 
Consider also your miscarriages in the week past, and industriously 
endeavor to prevent them in the week to come. 



72 



LADY ALICE LUCY, 



This lady was honorably descended, though the particulars of 
her pedigree are not related in the Memoirs we have met with con- 
cerning her. 

She entered early in life into the marriage state, though not sooner 
than she was qualified for it. To her husband, Sir Thomas Lucy, 
of Charlcot, in Warwickshire, she was reverently amiable ; and 
from him, for all the virtues which an husband can wish for in a wife, 
she received as much honor as she could expect, or desire. 

After this honorable pair had lived together in this near relation 
for thirty years with much endearment and delight, it pleased God to 
dissolve the tie, by taking away her support and honor, far dearer to 
her than her very life. But it pleased God also to shew himself 
very gracious to her, by upholding her, comforting her, and enabling 
her prudently to manage her great estate, and to order her numerous 
family with admirable wisdom, especially if we consider that- her 
bodily infirmities for the most part confined her to her chamber, and 
seldom permitted her to stir abroad. 

She continually carried about her the burden of a weak body, but 
she bore it with an exemplary patience, and improved it to her spirit- 
ual advantage. It was her great affliction that she could not visit the 
house of God, and attend upon the public ordinances, where God 
hath promised his presence, and where we may expect his blessing. 
But because she could not go from her own habitation to the house 
of God she made a church, of her own house, where for several 
years she every Lord's-day in the evening, unless she were prevent- 
ed by extraordinary weakness, heard the preaching of the word, 
strictly requiring the presence of all her family, and shewing herself 
an example of great reverence, and singular attention. 

Her first employment every day was her humble addresses to Al- 
mighty God in secret. Her next was to read some portion out of 
the divine word, and of other good and profitable books ; and indeed 
she had a library well stored with most of our excellent English au- 
thors. No sooner did she hear of the publication of any pious, book, 
but she endeavored to make it her own, and to make herself the bet- 
ter by it. 

She spent much time in reading, and was able to give a good ac- 
count of what she read ; for she had an excellent understanding, as 
in secular so in spiritual things. Finding the benefit of this practice 
as to herself, she recommended it to her children, whom she caus- 
ed every day to read some portions both of the Old and New Test- 



MEMOIRS, &IC. 73 

ament in her presence and hearing. In the afternoon she employed 
some time in the same manner she had done in the morning. 

About an hour before supper she appointed some one of her chil- 
dren to read some godly and useful sermon before herself and her 
other children, frequently taking occasion of instilling into them some 
pleasant and profitable instruction, and exhorting them to a constant 
religious walk with God. In the evening, a little before she went to 
rest, she ordered them all to come into her lodging-room, where they 
joined in singing a psalm, as the servants did also constantly after sup- 
per before they rose from the table ; the men-servants in the hall, 
and the maid-servants in a more private room. After her children 
had done singing, with many pious exhortations, and her maternal 
benediction, she dismissed them, and then closed the day with secret 
duties as she began it. This was her continual course. 

By what has been said we may observe, that she was of a pious 
spirit herself, and as careful to leave the like pious impressions upon 
her children after her. Some of them tasted death before their dear 
mother; yet she left ten behind her, five sons and five daughters, 
who were all present at her funeral, and who all, with the children of 
Solomon's virtuous woman, Prov. xxxi. 28, " called her blessed." 

Next to the golden chain of graces, mentioned by St. Peter, 2 
Pet. i. 5, 6, 7, with which she was eminently beautified , and the or- 
nament of a meek and quiet spirit, 1 Pet. iii. 4, she accounted her 
children to be her chief ornaments, and therefore her desires and 
earnest endeavors were to ennoble and adorn them with all virtuous 
habits, and to make them the true children of God. She knew, and 
was solicitous to have them know too, that, if they would be happy, 
to their great birth there must be added the new birth, that to great 
kindred and alliance there must be a relation to the family of heav- 
en, and that to a great estate there must be added the riches of grace, 
or that else they would wish one day they had never been born. She 
often inculcated it upon them that true grace is true greatness, and 
that the more any of them feared and served God, the greater share 
might they expect in her love. 

This elect lady, to adopt the appellation of the Apostle, 2 John, 
i. was much in those holy exercises by which she might make her 
calling and election sure. She was much in the duties of piety, and 
much in the duties of charity. Many coats and garments did this 
Dorcas provide for the poor. God gave her the blessing of a great 
estate, and then added even a greater blessing than that, a heart to 
make a right use of it. 

Every day she reached out her hands to the needy. A great 
number she relieved at her gates, and gave charge to her porter, that 
when there came any who were very aged, or who complained of 
great losses in those dismal times of our civil wars, especially if they 
seemed honest, that he should come and acquaint her, that she might 
enlarge her charity to such objects, which if at any time he had neg- 

10 



74 MEMOIRS OF 

lected to do, she would probably have been as much displeased with 
him, as she once was with another of her servants for neglecting an 
order she had given him for the relief of some poor persons. 

In the times of scarcity she sent every week many loaves to neigh- 
boring towns. She caused her corn to be sold in the markets in such 
small quantities as might not exceed the abilities of the poor to pur- 
chase. She allowed certain meals in her house to several poor 
neighbors, whose want was visible in their pale faces ; and, when 
they had by her bounty recovered their former complexion, and had 
received, as it were, a new life by her means, she with pleasure de- 
clared, "that the sight of such an happy alteration in them did her 
as much good as any thing which she herself had eaten." 

She continually employed many aged men and women in such 
works as were adapted to their age and strength. 

When the physician came at any time to her house, she used to 
inquire of him whether there were any sick persons in the town, 
that, if there were any, they might enjoy the same helps with her- 
self. But at all times, if any persons were ill, and she had intelli- 
gence of it, she most cheerfully communicated whatsoever she 
thought most conducive to their recovery, having not only great store 
of cordials and restoratives always by her, but great skill and judg- 
ment in the application of them. 

As our Lord said to the woman of Canaan, Matt. xv. 28, "great 
is thy faith," so we may say of this excellent lady, that great was 
her charity ; for she well knew that faith is but a fancy without the 
labor of love ; that the greater any are, the better they should be ; 
that the more they have, the more good they should do; and "that 
pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is," James ". 
27, "to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep 
ourselves unspotted from the world." And the whole of this pure 
and undefiled religion was exemplified in her; for as we have seen 
that she visited the fatherless and widows, " so she kept herself un- 
spotted from the world." As the Apostle says, Rom. vii. 33, "who 
shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect ?" It is God who 
justifies; so may we say, who can lay any thing to the charge of this 
elect lady ? It was God who sanctified her : not so as to free her 
from the inherency of sin, for so he sanctifies none in this life, but 
so as to deliver her from the dominion of it, and from all such acts 
as would have cast a dishonor and blemish upon her, as all who knew 
her must acknowledge. Her soul might be compared to a beautiful 
well-cultivated garden, which was not only free from prevalent weeds, 
but richly replenished with all manner of fragrant flowers and delicate 
fruits. Or she might be resembled to the glorious sun, which is not 
only free from spots, but full of light. As Boaz saith to Ruth, 
Ruth iii. 11, that all the city knew that she was a virtuous woman; 
so it might be said, that all the country knew that this was the de- 
served character of this eminent lady. 



LADY ALICE LUCY. 75 

At her entrance into her last sickness, which was about a fortnight's 
continuance, she apprehended that her life would be very short, and 
accordingly composed and prepared herself for her dissolution ; but 
yet she durst not but make use of her physicians, whose eminent 
skill and fidelity she had frequently experienced, having been raised 
up by them, as the instruments in the hands of God, from the very 
gates of death. But the time was come, when, as the poet says, 

"Non est in medico semper relevetur ut aeger; 
Interdum docta plus valet arte malum."* 

ENGLISHED. 

Sometimes the best physicians cannot heal 
The dire diseases which their patients feel, 
But spite of all their med'cines, all their art, 
Victorious death plants his unerring dart. 

The last words of this pious lady were, "My God, I come flying 
unto thee." Presently after, her soul took its flight hence, and her 
bodv quietly slept in the Lord, anno Christi, 1648. 

Such were her humility and modesty, that, although in that mag- 
nificent monument she erected for her husband, she caused herself 
to be laid by him in her full proportion, yet she would not suffer her 
epitaph to bear any proportion to his, conceiving that the most that 
could be said of him was too little, and that the least that could be 
said of herself was too much. She was unwilling that any thing at 
all should be said of herself, but, when that might not be permitted, 
she would by no means allow of any more to be inscribed concern- 
ing her than this, "her observance of her dearest husband, while she 
enjoyed him, and her remembrance of him by that monument when 
she had lost him." Only one thing more was added, but much 
against her will, namely, that her other exquisite virtues were forbid- 
den by her excessive modesty to make their appearance on that 
marble. 



Ovidius de Pont. 



76 



THE RIGHT HONORABLE 
L.AJ3Y FRANCES HOBART. 



This noble lady was born in London, in the year 1603. She 
was the eldest of eight daughters, who all grew up to mature age, 
with which it pleased God to bless the Right Honorable John Earl of 
Bridgewater, Viscount Brackley, and Lord Ellesmere, Lord Presi- 
dent of Wales, by his noble Lady, Frances, daughter of the Right 
Honorable Ferdinando, Earl of Derby. 

The lady, the subject of our Memoirs, had no sooner passed out 
of the care of her nurse, and begun to speak, but she was in her 
father's house intrusted to the tuition of a French governess, from 
whom she learned to pronounce the French tongue before she could 
distinctly speak English ; an accomplishment which she retained to 
her dying day : and having her organs of speech so early formed to 
this language, she so naturally accented it, that the natives of France 
could hardly be persuaded that she was born in England. 

The years of her minority were spent in learning what was proper 
for that very early age, and that might qualify her for that noble sta- 
tion in which, if Providence spared her life, she was to appear in the 
world. She was now instructed in playing upon the lute, in singing, 
&c. ; things of which in her after-life she made little or no use, and 
which were even less in her esteem; but they fitted her for the court, 
with which she was to be acquainted, before' her removal into the 
country. She was taught also to read, to write, and cast accounts 
with great skill and exactness, to use her needle, and order the af- 
fairs of a family ; qualifications which in future time proved of extra- 
ordinary advantage both to herself and her husband. She was also 
in these younger days of her time, partly by the diligence of her 
governess, partly by the pains of one Mr. Moor, her father's chaplain, 
and partly by the superintending care of the earl her father, fully in- 
structed in the principles of religion ; as to which she would often 
mention with particular honor her father and her governess, and the 
last especially, for the good histories she would tell her, and the good 
counsel she instilled into her. She gratefully remembered how ex- 
actly the hours of her days were portioned out for the several kinds 
of instruction, so that no time was left her except a small allowance 
for exercise, and what was granted her for her private devotions, as 
to which her governess was her most faithful monitor, or for the more 
public religious duties of the family, in which her constant presence 
was required by her father. 



MEMOIRS, &C. 77 



Having attained to riper years, she was frequently at the court of 
King James and Queen Ann, and was in great favor with the queen, 
and King Charles the First, then Prince of Wales. She made fre- 
quent sad reflections upon this period of her life, for misspending a 
part of many Lord's-days in masques, and other court pastimes, ac- 
cording to the custom of others in like circumstances. This she 
would often mention with bitterness, and with a commendation of 
one of her noble sisters who had in her youth a just sense of the 
error of such conduct, and courage enough to resist the temptations 
to it. It was the only thing in which a divine, who was well ac- 
quainted with her, declared that he ever heard her repent her obe- 
dience to her mother, and her attendance upon her. 

The noble soul of this lady was ordained for higher things than 
balls, and masques, and visits. It was now time for a plant nurtured 
with so rare a cultivation to be removed into another place, that her 
God might have the glory, and her generation the fruit of such an 
education. Her native beauty, and the excellent mind she began to 
discover, made many noble persons desire her in marriage ; but at 
length, with the approbation of her parents, she chose for her hus- 
band Sir John Hobart, of Bricklin, in the county of Norfolk, Bart., 
who was the eldest son of Sir Henry Hobart, at that time Lord Chief 
Justice, and Chancellor to the Prince. He was a person, indeed, as 
to title, in the lowest order of nobility, but his estate bore a full pro- 
portion to his quality, and his noble spirit and temper far better suit- 
ed his excellent lady, than a higher ascent in the scale of honor, with 
a different spirit and temper, would have done. 

In her conjugal relation she had become more conspicuous. She 
was now, as it were, planted upon an hill, in which those good seeds 
which had been sown in her ingenuous soul during her minority 
sprung up, and yielded abundant fruit in the whole of that triple ca- 
pacity to which this relation, in some little succession of time, brought 
her, that of a wife to a worthy husband — that of a mother of children 
— and that of a governess to a numerous family of servants. 

If we consider the constituents of a good wife as living in chasti- 
ty — in the prudent management of the affairs of the household^-in 
respect to her husband's person, a concealment of his weaknesses, 
and in an obedience to his commands, together with a due sympathy, 
and patient and cheerful participation with him in the vicissitudes of 
Providence with which he was exercised, and above all, a serious 
and tender regard to the salvation of the soul of her husband, this 
most worthy lady will be found to have deserved the highest praise. 

As to chastity, she judged it not enough to be in this respect vir- 
tuous, unless she lived above the suspicion of the contrary. She 
would often mention a saying of her mother's on this head, " that 
temptations to the violation of the honor of ladies in this particular, 
look their rise from a carriage too light and familiar in themselves, 
and ihnt man was suffered to come loo near who came to be denied," 



78 MEMOIRS OF 

Her constant behavior, therefore, was that of an affability, ever tem- 
pered with gravity ; and they both shone in such an inseparable con- 
junction, as spread a glory upon her character. 

As to her prudent management of the affairs of her household, she 
was not only so vigilant as that it was no easy thing for any servant to 
impose upon her, but she also extended her regard to concerns which 
were more extrinsical, and not the ordinary province of women ; for 
finding her husband encumbered with a great debt, she undertook the 
management of his whole estate, and the auditing of all his accounts, 
and so happily succeeded in the business, as to diminish several thou- 
sand pounds of the sums which he owed. 

Her respect to her husband's person, her concealment of his weak- 
nesses, and her obedience to his commands, were evinced not only 
in words, but in actions ; and she shewed that she had learned that 
precept of sacred writ, Eph. v. 22, "Wives submit yourselves to your 
own husbands as unto the Lord ; for the husband is the head of the 
wife, even as Christ is the head of the Church." 

Most remarkable was this lady's kind sympathy with her husband, 
in those bodily afflictions with which it pleased the divine Providence 
to visit him. From their first marriage he was visited with afflictions, 
though in different degrees, and his noble consort seemed to be allot- 
ted to him as much for a nurse as for a wife. Her care for him, and 
tenderness of him, was beyond expression, of which the writer* of 
her Memoirs " declares he was an eye-witness for the seven or eight 
last months of his life, when his distempers lay heaviest upon him. 
In the day-time she confined herself to his chamber, seldom leaving 
him for so much as an hour ! unless to attend upon public ordinan- 
ces, to take her meals, or perform her secret devotions. In the night 
she watched with him to such a strange excess, as some may deem 
it, that all about her wondered how her tender frame could bear the 
continual fatigue, seldom laying herself down to take any rest till two 
or three o'clock in the morning, and then taking it upon an ordinary 
couch in his chamber, where she might hear every groan, and be at 
hand to render her husband every service in her power." 

But this is not all. She was as much a meet help for her husband 
as to the things of eternity, and the salvation of his soul, as in the con- 
cerns of the present life. The familiar appellation which her hus- 
band generally used in speaking to her was, " My dear saint ;" and 
this not without good reason, from the experience he had had of her 
in spiritual things. No sooner had God wrought a change in the heart 



* Dr. John Collinses. He drew up a piece entitled "The Excellent Woman," 
discoursed more privately from Prov. xxxi. 29, 30, 31, upon occasion of the death of 
the Right Honorable the Lady Frances Hobart, and prefixed it with what he calls 
"A short Accourit of her holy Life and Death." To this account we are obliged for 
the Memoirs we are giving of this lady, and in several places have made large quo- 
tations from it. 



LADY FRANCES HOBART. 7 ( J 

of this noble lady, but there sprung up with it a great solicitude for 
the best interests of the companion of her life. By her prudent ad- 
monitions, and pathetic entreaties, he was recovered from the vanities 
he had indulged in, in his youth, so as to abhor the things in which 
he had formerly delighted, and to inquire after, choose, and find his 
pleasure in those good ways of God, with which formerly he had no 
acquaintance, and against which, for want of a due knowledge, he 
had conceived a prejudice. He now unweariedly desired and was 
present at private fasts, and other religious duties, and admonished 
his friends, and severely reproved others, and especially his servants, 
as to those errors which had once been too much his practice and 
delight. In short, by the blessing of God upon the public ministry 
of the word, upon which he now diligently attended, and the more 
private means of his excellent lady, he was brought to so good an 
hope, through grace, for several months before he died, as without 
perturbation to view death every day making its near approaches to 
him, and at last, not without testimony of a true hope in God, quietly 
to commit his soul into the hands of his blessed Redeemer. 

Having viewed this lady in her marriage-relation, we shall next 
consider her as a parent. She was the mother of nine children, of 
which only one, a daughter, lived to marriageable years, the rest 
all dying either in their infancy, or before they had arrived to ma- 
ture age. 

This young lady was married to an honorable and worthy person, 
Sir John Hobart, Bart., the heir of her father's honors and family, 
by whom it pleased God, after some years, to give her a son, which 
she did not long survive, being taken away from our world many 
years before the death of her mother. The son she left behind 
soon followed her to the grave ; and thus did the good lady, the sub- 
ject of our Memoirs, live to see God stripping her of every branch 
that had sprung from her, though he had a better name with which 
to crown and comfort her, than that of sons and daughters. 

"Concerning her deportment," says the writer of her life, "to 
her other children, while she enjoyed them, I can say nothing, not 
having had the advantage of knowing her till some years after God 
had deprived her of them ; only 1 may rationally presume it was not 
unlike to what she shewed to the only survivor. For her I could 
say much, if, while she had a being with us, by her pious disposition, 
affable and ingenuous temper, and most virtuous conversation ; in 
short, by whatsoever accomplishments could perfect and adorn a 
young and virtuous lady, she had not both approved herself to all to 
whom she was known, and also commended her by whom she was 
educated to such a pitch of feminine perfection. The instruction of 
her father which she heard, and the law of her mother which she 
did not forsake, proved an ornament of grace unto her head, and as 
chains of gold and oriental pearls about her neck. And indeed, as 
there was nothing wanting in nature to accomplish that young and 



80 MEMOIRS OF 

excellent lady, so her virtuous mother had resolved that nothing 
should be wanting which either her own care, or the art of others, 
could help her to. Nor did this rare lady shew more of a mother 
to her while she lived, than of a Christian mother when it pleased 
God to extinguish this light of her eyes, and quench this only coal 
which she had left her, taking her death with that due sense which 
became so tender and indulgent a mother, and yet with that patience 
and fortitude which became not only her rational spirit, which con- 
sidered that she had brought forth a mortal daughter, but also a sub- 
missive Christian who had learned not to repine against Heaven, but 
in great measure to melt down her own into the divine will." 

We shall next consider this noble person in the relation of a mis- 
tress to a numerous family of servants ; and it may be truly said of 
her, that she acquitted herself in it with an equal honor to that with 
which she adorned her other capacities in life. She behaved her- 
self in such a manner to her domestics as that her carriage would 
not allow them to be proud and malapert on one side, nor discour- 
aged into a servility and baseness of spirit on the other. After the 
choice of her servants devolved entirely on herself, her great care in 
the first place was to procure persons for her household who feared 
God. She ever preferred the virtuous and sober. She might in- 
deed as to such be once and again deceived, but none were ever 
suffered to continue in her house when she had once discovered 
them to be drunkards, unclean persons, profane swearers, or cursers, 
enemies to religion and godliness, or in any way wicked and scanda- 
lous ; and her eye was so much upon her family, and her care so 
much employed in the discipline of it, that it was not easy for any 
such persons to be long concealed, but they were quickly seen in 
their true light, either by herself, or her steward. 

She not only amply provided for the comfortable maintenance of 
her servants, but she also bestowed a more than ordinary concern for 
the better interests of their immortal souls. In short, there were 
none who served her who would not praise her in the gates ; none 
who ever waited upon her but what would rise up and call her 
blessed. 

We shall now view this excellent lady in the third and last period 
of her life, when she became a widow. " In this state," says her 
biographer, " she was indeed best known to me, as I had the happi- 
ness of waiting upon her during this whole time, and for some little 
time before, (about seven or eight months,) whence I shall begin my 
story. It was in September, 1646,* that I was invited by Sir John 
Hobart, at that time alive, to take my chamber in his house, while 
I discharged my ministerial office in the city, (Norwich,) and to take 



* Dr. Collinges was then only about twenty three years of age. What an excel- 
lent spirit, and uncommon endeavors to do good, this man of God discovered so early 
in life, will be made abundantly evident from the Memoirs of the lady. 



LADY FRANCES HOBART. SI 

some oversight of his family in the things of God, Sir John himself 
having been lately a valetudinarian, and the family without any spirit- 
ual guide. I found it in some disorder, and the several persons in 
it, the daughter only excepted, being persons grown in years, I ap- 
prehended it no easy matter to reduce it to a due religious order and 
discipline. My design was, it being a family of much leisure, to 
bring it into a course of prayer, in conformity to David's pattern, 
morning, evening, and at noon-time, reading some portion of Scrip- 
ture every day, and expounding it, as my leisure would allow me, 
together with catechising once in the week, a stricter observation of 
the Lord's-day, and repetitions of sermons, both on that, and other 
days, when we had attended upon the public ordinances. I did not 
do this as thinking it was what God required of all families, but be- 
cause I thought God expected more of us to whom he had given 
more leisure from the distracting concerns of the world, because my 
hands at that time were not so full of more public employment, but 
that I could attend this more than ordinary service in the family, and 
indeed because I thought I saw the family so much behind-hand as 
to spiritual knowledge, as that ordinary performances in a short time 
were not likely to reach the end at which I aimed. 

"As to the generality of the servants, I feared this alteration might 
prove like the putting new wine into old bottles, and be judged a 
yoke that they were not able to bear. I therefore first communica- 
ted my thoughts to my lady, Sir John's sickly state not allowing much 
liberty for discourse at that time. Her ladyship cheerfully approving 
my thoughts, propounded them to her husband, who, with great ex- 
pressions of thankfulness, signified his approbation to me, and com- 
manded the servants diligently to attend the duties ; and himself, 
when his infirmities would permit him, was never ordinarily absent 
for some time at our prayers. At noon and night he was with them. 
The morning-service was by seven of the clock, rarely after eight, 
from which her ladyship, unless in a bed of sickness, in eighteen 
years, I think, was hardly twice absent, and was commonly with the 
first of the family in the room where they were performed, before 
her sickly state brought them to her own chamber. 

"The business of catechising was more difficult, but yet it was 
made easy by the parents prevailing with their own daughter to go 
before the family in a noble example, which she continued till she 
had attained a competent knowledge in the most necessary princi- 
ples of religion. From the time I first came into the family it pleas- 
ed God to keep Sir John Hobart in a dying condition, though he had 
some more lucid intervals than others, and within less than eight 
months God removed him into a better life. It was his great satis- 
faction all along his sickness to see his dear daughter making such a 
proficiency in the knowledge of the things of God, and so willing to 
set an example to his family; and he mentioned it as his dying com- 
fort, that he had seen his family, before his death, in a course of re- 

11 



82 MEMOIRS OF 

formation, which he doubted not but his lady would bring to per- 
fection." 

To come directly to that period of her life, her ladyship's widow- 
hood. Now she sat solitary, mourning as a turtle that had lost her 
mate, and for a while knew not how to be comforted, because he was 
not. Having recovered herself from her distress, and learned to 
hold her peace because it was the Lord's doing, she made it her 
first request to Dr. Collinges to stay with her, and keep on the course 
of religious duties in the family, which he had begun, proposing to 
him a high encouragement from an assurance that he should find her y 
according to the pattern of the man after God's own heart, endeav- 
oring "to walk in her house with a perfect heart — that those who 
were of a fro ward spirit should depart from her — that her eyes 
should be upon the faithful of the land, that they might dwell with 
her — that they who wrought deceit should not dwell in her house — 
that he who told lies should not tarry in her sight."* To which 
resolutions she afterwards strictly adhered. To give herself the ad- 
vantage of doing good to the souls of many, she at no small expense 
converted some less useful lower rooms of her house into a chapel y 
which would conveniently hold more than two hundred persons* 
Here she engaged the above mentioned minister to preach a lecture 
every week, and to repeat one or both of his sermons every Lord's 
day at night, after the more public sermons were over in the city, 
which for sixteen years was continued to a very full auditory, and to 
the great benefit of many younger persons, and of those who had 
not such advantages as they desired in their own houses, for hearing 
again what they had been hearing in the day time. This work of 
piety was the more remarkable, as her ladyship's chapel lying in the 
way to that field, where young persons had formerly been used to 
profane the latter part of the Lord's-day, by idle walks and recrea- 
tions, happily intercepted many of them, and proved, from the ex- 
ample of it, an allurement to them to a further reverence of the 
Sabbath ; and, from the instructions they heard there, the happy 
means of an acquaintance with God and their duty. After this her 
ladyship engaged Dr. Collinges, above named, to preach a morning 
sermon on the Lord's-day, those monthly days only excepted when 
he was to administer the communion of the Lord's Supper more 
publicly. This course she continued so long as the good doctor had 
liberty to preach, or her ladyship had liberty to hear. 

This most worthy lady having thus served her generation accor- 
ding to the will of God, her time came when she was to fall asleep, 
or rather when as a shock of corn she was to be gathered in her 
season. 



* Psalm ci. 



LADY FRANCES HOBART. 83 

The time of her last sickness, the dropsy, which seized her some- 
thing more than half a year before her death, afforded no great va- 
riety of temper as to her spiritual condition. She kept on her course 
of religious duties in her house and chamber, as formerly. Her 
work was finished both as to the present and future life, her house 
and her soul were set in order, so that she had little to do but to be 
still, and wait for the salvation of God the remaining days of her ap- 
pointed lime, till her change came. " I do not remember," says Dr. 
Collinges, " that during her long illness she more than twice discov- 
ered to me any conflicts in her spirit, though I constantly attended 
upon her, and as constantly inquired into the frame of her spirit. 
She had sown in tears before, and had now nothing to do but to reap 
in joy. Her death was a long time foreseen both by her, and by 
ourselves, but as to the particular time we were somewhat surprised, 
for, when she probably thought the day of her change at some dis- 
tance, she lost her senses, and her speech, after two or three days 
quietly fell asleep in the evening of the Lord's day, Nov. 27, 1664. 

"Thus lived, thus died," says her worthy Biographer "this twice 
noble, excellent lady, about the sixty-first year of her age, possibly 
the brightest example of piety, and truest pattern of honor, liber- 
ality, temperance, humility, and courtesy, which it hath pleased 
God in this last age to shew in that part of the world where he had 
fixed her. A woman, indeed, not without her infirmities ; to assert 
that, were to discharge her from her relation to human nature ; but 
as they were of no reproachable magnitude, and the products of 
natural temperature, not of vicious habits, so they were so much 
outshone by her eminent graces and virtues, as that a curious eye 
could hardly take notice of them. In a word, none ever lived more 
desired, or died more universally lamented, by all worthy persons in 
the city of Norwich, to which she was related. 

She was buried in a vault belonging to the family of her dear 
and noble husband, at Blicklin, in Norfolk, December 1, 1664, 
therein paying her deceased husband a last obedience, who as I 
have heard her pleasantly say, made it his first request to her on the 
day of her marriage." 



84 



liABY LET-ICE* 

VISCOUNTESS FALKLAND 



[Written in a Letter to her Mother, the Lady Morisojv, at Great Tew, in 
Oxfordshire] 



Madam,— It is the desire of some honorable personages to have 
an exact account of the death of your most dear daughter, the Lady 
Falkland ; they being acquainted with much piety in her life, expect 
(as well they may) somewhat remarkable in her sickness and death. 

For your comfort, and their satisfaction, I have gathered together 
some scattered particulars of her life, sickness, and death, and have 
sent them unto you, that the most precious perfume of her name 
being poured out, (like Mary Magdalen's box of spikenard,) may fill 
your, and their houses. 

And though this relation of so many eminent virtues in her, would 
not, perhaps, have appeared so delicate from your own pen, (because 
so deep a share of the praise belongs to you,) yet you need not blush 
at the delivering of it ; it may be consistent with your modesty, to 
be a witness of the truth of these particulars, though not to be a 
publisher of them. 

And if the memory of that most holy lady continue precious 
amongst us; and her holy example efficacious with us; and God, 
who sanctified her here, and now glorifies her in heaven, be magni- 
fied and honored for his mercies and graces, I have all I aim at. 

I shall relate somewhat remarkable in the very beginning of her 
Christian race ; more, in her progress and proficiency in it ; and 
then come to the last stages, when the crown, at the end of the race, 
was, as it were, within her view. 

This elect lady set out early in the ways of God, in the morning 
of her age : there was care taken while she was young, that she 
should be brought up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord ; 
she came not from her nurse's arms, without some knowledge of the 
principles of the Christian religion. 

While she was very young, her obedience to her parents (which 
she extended also to her aunt, who had some charge over her in her 
father's house,) was very exact ; and as she began, so she continued 
in this gracious and mild temper of duty. I have heard you say, 
madam, that you cannot remember any one particular, wherein, at 
any time, she disobeyed her father, or you. 



MEMOIRS, &C. B5 

That her time might not be misspent, nor her employments tedi- 
ous to her, the several hours of the day had a variety of employments 
assigned to them ; and the intermixing of prayer, reading, writing, 
working, and walking, brought a pleasure to each of them in their 
courses ; so that the day was carried about faster than she would ; 
and she began in this her youth to abridge herself of her sleep, and 
was oftentimes at a book in her closet when she was thought to be 
in bed. 

You remember well, I presume, the purse her young fingers 
wrought for her own alms, and how importunately she would beg 
your loose money to fill it ; and as earnest she was in emptying it 
too ; the poor seldom went from the house, without the alms of the 
young daughter, as well as of the parents. 

And how constant she was then, at her private prayer, I know, by 
what I have heard from the keeper of your house : when strangers 
were in her own room, where she ordinarily had her retirements, he 
was called to give her the key of some other chamber for that pur- 
pose : at her hour of prayer, she would procure a new oratory, 
rather than omit or defer that duty. 

And how powerful with God the lifting up her pure hands, every 
where in this her innocent childhood was, soon appeared : for while 
her holiness was in the bud, a violent attempt was made to blast it. 
About the thirteenth year of her age there was a storm of temptation 
raised in her, and some arguments the tempter had suggested to drive 
her to despair of God's mercy towards her : and this I note the rather, 
because it is not ordinary at such years to have attained to that growth, 
as to be thought fit for those encounters : but God upheld this young 
twig, against such a storm, which hath torn up many a fair tree : for 
after some anguish of spirit, and patience in the combat, and earnest 
prayers, God's grace was sufficient for her ; and surely it was not 
the strength of her hands at this age, but the pureness of them, 
which prevailed for her. 

Some there are, whom God leads from the spiritual Egypt to 
Canaan, not by this way of the Philistines, lest they should repent 
when they see war, and turn back again into Egypt, Exod. xiii. 17. 
But her, it seems, God trained up in this military course : and from 
her youth exercised her in it, that she might be expert at it. 

After this conquest, her soul enjoyed much peace and tranquillity, 
and she went on most cheerfully in holy duties ; and tasted much 
comfort and delight in them : and her heart was ever so full, that 
out of the abundance of it she would say, " Oh what an incompara- 
ble sweetness there is in the music of David's harp ! Oh, what heav- 
enly joy there is in those psalms, and in prayers, and praises to God ! 
How amiable are the courts of God's house ! how welcome the days 
of his solemn worship !" 

And now, nothing could hinder her from those holy assemblies ; 
every Lord's-day constantly, forenoon and afternoon, she would be 



86 MEMOIRS OF 

with the earliest at them : sometimes (when she wanted a conveni- 
ence of riding,) she walked cheerfully three or four miles a day, as 
young and as weak as she was, to them : and at night she accounted 
the joys and the refreshments, of which her soul had been partaker, 
a sufficient recompense for the extreme weariness of her body. 

And within a short while, by reading good authors, and by frequent 
converse with learned men, she improved (by God's help) her natu- 
ral talents of understanding and reason, to a great degree of wisdom 
and knowledge. 

And now these riches, of her piety, wisdom, quickness of wit, 
discretion, judgment, sobriety, and gravity of behavior, being once 
perceived by Sir Lucius Cary,* seemed portion enough to him : 
these were they he prized above worldly inheritances, and those 
other fading accessions, which most men court. 

And she being married to him, riches and honor, and all other 
worldly prosperity, flow in upon her ; and consequently to proceed in 
holiness and godliness grows an harder task, than before it seemed to 
be : it being much more difficult when riches and honor thus increase, 
then, not to set our hearts upon them. 

Yet God strengthened her by his grace for this also : for when 
possession was given her of stately palaces, pleasantly seated, and 
most curiously and fully furnished, and of revenues and royalties 
answerable, though your ladyship hath heard her acknowledge God's 
great goodness towards her, for these temporal preferments, yet nei- 
ther you, nor any of her friends, could perceive her heart any whit 
exalted with joy for them. 

They were of the Babylonians' retinue, who, when they had seen 
Hezekiah's riches and treasures, set their hearts upon them, Isaiah 
xxxix. This true Israelite reserved her affections for those riches 
which never fade, and for those dwellings which are above, where 
the city is of pure gold, and the walls garnished with precious stones. 

This confluence of all worldly felicities and contentments, did so 
little affect her, that there were some seemed displeased at it ; and 
then she would attribute much of it to a melancholic disease, which 
was upon her; and though I deny not but that some worldly delights 
might fall by the hand of her melancholy, yet, doubtless, where the 
disease slew its hundreds, grace slew its ten thousands. 

In this condition some years passed, during which time she was 
most constant at prayers and sermons, and frequently received the 
blessed sacrament; and although now and then she felt not her wont- 
ed spiritual comforts, but instead of them had some anguish and bit- 
terness of spirit ; yet by the advice of good divines, and by her ordi- 
nary help of prayer, she soon recovered her peace and joy. 

Thus in the several conditions of youth, and ripe years of virgin- 
ity, and marriage, and amongst contrary temptations, of adversity 

* See Note at the end of this Memoir. 



LADY FALKLAND. 87 

and prosperity, affliction and comfort, she continues that course of 
holy life which she had begun ; a great proficiency this, yet I crave 
leave to reckon it all into her beginning, for this was but slow in res- 
pect of that great agility and quick speed she attained unto, in the 
other part of her spiritual race. 

Her proficiency and progress I shall account from that time when 
her prosperity began to abate ; when her dear lord and most beloved 
husband, that he might be like Zebulun, a student helping the Lord 
against the mighty, (Judges v. 14,) went from his library to the camp; 
from his book and pen, to his sword and spear; and the consequence 
of that, an inevitable necessity that she must now be separated from 
hira, for a while, whom she loved more than all the things of this 
world : this was a sad beginning ; but that total separation, which, 
soon after, death made between him and her, that he should be 
taken away by an untimely death, and by a violent death too, — this, 
this was a most sore affliction to her : the same sword which killed 
him pierced her heart also. 

And this heavy affliction which God sent upon her, she interpreted 
for a loud call from Heaven, to a further proficiency in piety and 
virtue. 

And yet she fears it may be a punishment also upon her, for some 
sin or other, and therefore strictly examines herself, and ransacks 
every corner of her heart, to find out wherein she had provoked 
God to lay this great affliction on her ; and to make sure, she re- 
news her repentance for all her transgressions ; and her godly sor- 
row for her sins past is as fresh as if it had been for the sins of yes- 
terday. 

And now she addresses herself to a divine of great eminence for 
piety and learning ; and from him she takes directions for a more 
strict course of life in this her widowhood, than formerly ; now she 
forgetting quite what was behind, presses forward to what was be- 
fore, and, as if she had done nothing yet, she begins anew. 

And though the greatest part of her Christian work was locked 
up close within herself, and some of it very studiously and indus- 
triously concealed by her, (that she might be sure no degree of vain 
glory should creep upon her with it,) yet much of it appeared, by 
the effects, and is now forced to come abroad before us. 

Her first and grand employment was, to read and understand, and 
then (to the utmost of her strength,) to practice our most blessed 
Savior's Sermon upon the Mount, in the fifth, sixth, and seventh 
chapters of St. Matthew's gospel ; and having read over a most 
complete (though compendious) Comment upon that Sermon, she 
set forthwith upon the work of practising it, and began with those 
virtues to which the beatitudes are annexed. 

And her mercifulness was none of those virtues which she could 
at all conceal from us ; much of her estate (we saw) given yearly 
to those of her kindred, which were capable of charity from her : 



88 



MEMOIRS OF 



and some of her near neighbors, who were very old, and not able to 
work ; or very young, and not fit for work, were wholly maintained 
by her : to other poor children she contributed much, both for their 
spiritual and their temporal well being, by erecting a school for them, 
where they were to be taught both to read and to work : much care 
she took, that no man, or woman, or child, should want employment; 
that their own hands might bring them in a competent subsistence ; 
and accounted that the best arrangement of her estate, which set 
most poor people on work ; for if it were to their profit, she little 
regarded her own detriment in it. 

So that her principal care herein, was to keep them from idleness, 
that root of all sin and wickedness; for by another method she might 
have received more profit, and thereby have been better able to re- 
lieve them, though by this only she was able to set them at work. 

A most eminent piece of mercifulness this, where temporal and 
spiritual mercy went together, and wisdom guided both. 

And for the poor at home, and for strangers at the door, she was 
very charitable in feeding the hungry, and refreshing the faint and 
weak ; and for clothing the naked. In some extremities you might 
see this lady herself go up and down the house, and beg garments 
from her servants' backs, (whom she requited soon after with new,) 
that the poor might not go naked or cold from her door : so that she 
was not only a liberal almoner to the poor, but also an earnest solici- 
tor for them : and when it was objected, that many idle and wicked 
people were by this course of charity relieved at her house, her an- 
swer was : "I know not their hearts, and in their outward carriage 
and speech they all appear to me good and virtuous, and I had rather 
relieve five unworthy vagrants than that one member of Christ should 
go empty away." And for harboring strangers, the many inconve- 
niences ordinarily ensuing upon it, could not deter her from it ; some- 
times for some weeks together they were entertained by her. 

And since her death, I hear of plentiful relief, here, at London, 
and at Oxford, sent privately to prisons, and needy persons, with a 
strict charge that it should not be known from whence it came ; she 
would not have her left hand know what her right hand gave. 

And this, her mercifulness, could not be bounded within the limits 
of friends, it extended itself to her enemies too : when there were 
many of them taken prisoners by the king's soldiers, and in great 
need, she consulted how she might send relief to them : and when 
it was answered, that such an act would raise jealousies in some, of 
her loyalty to his majesty, she replied, "No man will suspect my 
loyalty because I relieve these prisoners, but he would suspect my 
Christianity, if he should see me relieve a needy Turk, or Jew : 
however, I had rather be so misunderstood, if this my secret alms 
should be known, than that any of my enemies, the worst of them, 
should perish for want of it." 



LADY FALKLAND. 89 

And this one instance, and reason of hers, is ground enough to 
believe, she failed not to relieve her enemies, as often as occasion 
required. 

But, beyond all, her mercifulness towards the sick was most lau- 
dable : her provision of antidotes against infection, and of cordials, 
and several sorts of physic for such of her neighbors as should need 
them, amounted yearly to very considerable sums : and though, in 
distributing such medicinal provisions, her hand was very open, yet 
it was close enough in applying them : her skill, indeed, was more 
than ordinary, and her wariness too. 

When any of the poor neighbors were sick, she had a constant 
care, that they should neither want such relief nor such attendance 
as their weak condition called for ; and, if need were, she hired 
nurses to serve them : and her own frequent visiting of the poorest 
cottagers, and her ready service to them on their sick bed, argued 
as great humility, as mercifulness in her ; yet the books of spiritual 
exhortations she carried in her hand to these sick persons, declared 
a further design she had therein, of promoting them towards heaven, 
by reading to them, and by administering words of holy counsel to 
them : "There is no season more fit," she would say, "for sowing 
good seed, than this; while the ground of their hearts is softened, 
and melting with sorrow and sickness." And to gain this advantage 
it was that she was so frequent a visitor of the sick, going day after 
day to their bed-side. This honorable lady hath been observed sit- 
ting in a cottage, waiting the sick woman's leisure, till the slumbers 
and fits were over, that she might read again to her, and finish the 
work she had begun. 

And of late, when she could not do this good office in her own 
person, (she growing sickly and weak,) yet she would do it still by 
proxy; for some of her friends or servants were deputed by her to 
go to the sick, with her books too, daily; and now and then most of 
her family, who were fit for such employment, were sent abroad on 
this errand. 

Thus ordinarily in all her works of outward mercy she added 
works of spiritual mercy too ; relieving the wants of the body, and 
of the soul together, instructing and exhorting, and earnestly per- 
suading the poor and the sick to some virtue or other, for their soul's 
health. 

For meekness, also, she was most eminent. She was second to 
none of her sex and age, I believe, among us, for perspicuity of un- 
derstanding and clearness of judgment ; yet as far from self-conceit 
as from ignorance : her way, indeed, was, upon debates, to object 
till all arguments she could think of to the contrary were satisfied ; 
and when that was once done, no cavil was heard, but her assent 
readily given ; and this ready submission of her judgment to the 
best reasons, I mention, for the meekness of her understanding : 

12 



90 MEMOIRS OF 

herein this lady excelled some of the chiefest rabbis, that her knowl- 
edge did not puff up, but edify. 

And her understanding leading the way in meekness, her will 
cheerfully followed in it too : as soon as her understanding was satis- 
fied, her will bowed presently and obeyed : she seldom refused to 
do, what she was convinced was fit to be done. 

The greater difficulty was with her affections : her natural temper 
she would often complain inclined her to anger ; and being so well 
aware of it, she most diligently observed herself, and did, in a great 
degree, conquer that froward inclination ; and that good measure of 
meekness, in this kind, which she attained to, was the more com- 
mendable, because of the many great difficulties she met with in it. 

And now after the exercise of all these virtues in this high degree, 
such a poverty of spirit was apparent in her, as was most admirable : 
upon all occasions bewailing her weaknesses, and lamenting her spir- 
itual wants : there were some about her who had an holy emulation 
to be like her, in these, and such like graces and virtues ; and she 
hath now and then overheard them wishing, that they were as for- 
ward as she ; and her constant reply was, "Oh, ye are not so back- 
ward ! yet wish yourselves better ; ye know not how vile and cor- 
rupt my heart is." So that in some respects she accounted herself 
the greatest of sinners ; in no respect would she esteem better of 
herself, than of the least of saints ; a well-wisher towards holiness, 
and a beginner still. 

Thus she daily practised these graces and virtues, to which our 
Savior annexed such special blessings ; and studied to be still more 
and more perfect in them, with as much diligence as the scholar doth 
his lesson, and with as much success and good speed too. 

And from this sermon of our blessed Savior she learned that 
duty of prayer ; and her chief practice therein she could not con- 
ceal from us neither, which was as follows : 

First, she spent some hours every day in her private devotions 
and meditations ; these were called, 1 remember, by those of her 
family, her busy hours ; prayers, her business : Martha's employ- 
ment was her recreation, she had spare hours for it ; Mary's was 
her business. 

Then her maids came into her chamber early every morning, and 
ordinarily she passed about an hour with them, in praying, and cate- 
chising and instructing them ; to these secret and private prayers, the 
public morning and evening prayers of the Church, before dinner 
and supper; and another form, (together with the reading scriptures, 
and singing psalms,) before bed-time, were daily and constantly added. 

To pray with David seven times a day or with Daniel three times, 
is expected perhaps only from such persons as have leisure and op- 
portunity : but with the sons of Levi to offer up morning and evening 
sacrifice every day, this she required from the busiest servant in the 
house, that at the outgoings of the morning and evening, every one 
should praise God and call upon his name. 



LADY FALKLAND. 91 

Neither were these holy offices peculiar to her menial servants, 
others came freely to join with them, and her oratory was as open 
to her neighbors as her hall was. 

On the Lord's-day she rose in the morning earlier than ordinarily ; 
yet enjoined herself so much private duty with her children and ser- 
vants, examining them in the sermons and catechising, &c. and with 
her own soul, that oftentimes the day was too short for her ; and 
th'en I have known her rise two or three hours before day on Monday, 
to supply what was left undone the day before. 

To dispose herself the better for the religious keeping of the 
Lord's-day, as well as for other spiritual ends, I presume it was, that 
she so solemnly fasted every Saturday ; that day she sequestered her- 
self from company, and from worldly employment, and came seldom 
out of her closet till towards evening, and then the chaplain must 
double the sacrifice ; prayers she had and catechising both. 

And her care to prepare herself for the receiving of the holy Sa- 
crament of our most blessed Lord's Supper was most commendable 
and most punctual : oftentimes scruples and fears arose in her, tend- 
ing to keep her back from that heavenly banquet ; and she having, 
upon examination of them, reason enough, as we thought, to con- 
clude that they were temptations from the devil, whom she perceiv- 
ed laboring amain to deprive her of that strength and comfort which 
she hoped to receive from that sacred ordinance, neglected them all, 
and presented herself with an humble and trembling heart, at that 
blessed Sacrament ; and these fears and scruples in her occasioned 
this peremptory resolution from her, that she would not, by God's 
help, thenceforth omit any opportunity of communication. Thus 
while the devil was undermining to weaken her, she was countermining 
to strengthen herself more against him : which resolution she con- 
stantly kept at home, and, I am told, at Oxford and London too, the 
first inquiry almost after her journey thither, was, where and when is 
there a communion ? And sometimes she would go to the other end 
of the city for it. 

At home her servants were all urged to accompany her to the 
Sacrament ; and they who were prevailed with, gave up their names 
to her two or three days before, and from thence she applied herself 
to the instructing of them ; and she knew well how to administer to 
every one their particular portion ; and several exhortations she had 
for several persons whom she had power over. 

Yet she trusted not in her own instructions of them, but desired 
the chaplain's help also to examine them, and to instruct them far- 
ther ; and her care was so to order her domestic affairs, that all 
those servants, who were to receive the Sacrament, should have the 
day before it free from their ordinary work, that they might have 
better leisure for that spiritual work of preparing themselves for that 
Sacrament. 



92 MEMOIRS OF 

And after the holy Sacrament, she called them together again, 
and gave them such exhortations as were proper for them. 

And this very care and piety in family duties was so highly es- 
teemed in Abraham, that God made him one of his privy coun- 
cil, (as I may so say,) for that alone, Gen. xviii. 17. And might 
not the singular wisdom and deep knowledge of divine counsels, and 
heavenly mysteries, which this daughter of Abraham had, be a re- 
ward of that care to instruct her children and household in the ways 
of God ? 

Yet while she is thus religiously and piously employed in this good 
proficiency, and far progress, going on from grace to grace, from vir- 
tue to virtue ; God hath a further design upon her, another affliction 
to quicken her yet more. 

Her young and most dear son, Lorenzo, whom God had endowed 
with the choicest of natural abilities, and to whom her affections were 
most tender, by reason of those fair blossoms of piety she perceived 
in him, God takes away from her. 

This added to her former troubles of the loss of her husband, of 
her crosses in the world, and of her spiritual affliction, which came 
often upon her, makes the burthen most heavy ; she was bruised 
with afflictions before, but now she fears being ground to powder. 

Now she weeps and mourns all the day long, and at night also 
waters her couch with tears; and weeping, saith, "Ah! this im- 
moderate sorrow must be repented of, these tears wept over again:" 
and this quick sense of displeasing God, by this deep grief, soon al- 
layed the vehemence of it. And now she retires herself to listen 
what the Lord God said unto her, in this louder call of affliction ; 
and she seems to think that she was not yet weaned enough from 
the things of this world, and that it is expedient for her, that some 
of those worldly comforts she most delighted in, should be taken 
away from her, that her conversation may be yet more spiritual and 
heavenly, and therefore this affliction seemed to call her to a greater 
disregard of the world, and to a nearer conformity to Christ her Lord. 

Yet still her sorrow for her son is somewhat excessive, she fears, 
and therefore she goes to her chaplain again, and acquaints him with 
the violence of those fits of sorrow which of late had seized upon 
her, for the death of her son ; and he with his healing counsel and 
direction, by God's help, cured this her distemper; and antidotes he 
prescribed too, to prevent a relapse into this malady of excessive 
grief. 

Now she confesses that this very affliction was most fit for her, 
and that it would prove most beneficial to her, and therefore she la- 
bors to put on joy instead of sorrow, and comfort instead of mourn- 
ing, and returning home with perfect cheerfulness, every one there 
observed a most notable though sudden change in her ; sad Han- 
nah's countenance and conversation not more visibly changed upon 
the good words of Eli the prophet to her, concerning the Samuel 
she should obtain, than hers now is, after the loss of one. 



LADY FALKLAND. 93 

Thus God made the medicine most sovereign to her, and the anti- 
dote too ; for I verily believe she never after felt any fit of that her 
disease ; and though she wept often for her tears so profusely spent 
formerly upon her son's hearse, yet after this, not a tear more was 
shed over it. 

And with this extraordinary cheerfulness she takes up a most firm 
resolution of a further progress in holiness and piety, and addresses 
herself to run these latter stages of her Christian race with greater 
speed than she had shewed in any of the former : and thereupon 
she begins with a most diligent endeavor to conform her life exactly 
and universally to the most holy will of God. 

But the devil, who before envied her beginning, and her proficien- 
cy much more, is now most violent to hinder her perfection ; and 
therefore upon this her renewed purpose of more exact obedience, 
presently assaults her with fierceness and rage, strongly tempting her 
to think that she had deceived herself all this while, and that she had 
mocked God with a counterfeit repentance, which was no way ac- 
ceptable to him. 

And an argument was brought to this purpose, which was so fully 
suitable to the tenderness of her own spirit, that it is hard to say 
whence it proceeded. 

And this it was; "my grief for my sins hath not been so vehe- 
ment, as that, the other day, for the death of my son, I wept not so 
bitterly for them, as I did for that ; and therefore, that my repent- 
ance is not acceptable." 

And in this anguish of spirit she hastens to her learned friend again, 
and begs counsel and direction from him, and after devout prayers 
and holy conferences, received full comfort and thorough satisfaction, 
and returns home now as visibly lifted up from the deep pit of an- 
guish, and disquiet of spirit, as she was the other day, from the val- 
ley of sorrow : and with tranquillity of mind, and joy of heart, 
shews to her friends, both how she sunk, and how she was raised 
again. 

And now having, by the help of her God, leapt over this wall, 
and overcome this difficulty, with much cheerfulness of spirit she en- 
ters upon the practice of what she had last resolved on. This oppo- 
sition, though it staid her a while, yet set an edge upon her resolu- 
tion, and she soon recovered that vigor and keenness. And she be- 
gins, by a most sharp mortification, to obey the call of her last af- 
fliction. 

The vanity of apparel and dress she had cut off long before; and 
after her husband's death, the richness of them too. These (and 
her looking-glasses with the women in the law. Exod. xxxviii. 8,) 
she had laid by, for the service of the tabernacle ; what she spared 
in these, she bestowed upon the poor members of Christ, and now 
she begins to cut off all worldly pomp also. 



94 MEMOIRS OF 

In her house, in her retinue, and at her table, and otherwise, she 
denies herself that state which her quality might have excused, that 
with Dorcas the widow she might be full of good works ; and more 
delight she takes to see her revenues now spent among a crowd of 
alms-men and women at her door, than by a throng of servants in 
her house : it was a greater joy to her that she could maintain poor 
children at their books and their work, than to have pages and gen- 
tlewomen for her attendants : these expenses she knew would be 
better allowed, in her bill of accounts at the general audit, than those 
other ; it was her pomp and joy to avoid all useless pomp of state, 
and all delight in courtly vanities. 

And now her anger too, which was crushed before, must be whol- 
ly subdued; and to that purpose she solicitously avoids all inquiries; 
and all discourse which she feared would provoke her to immoderate 
anger; and when she feels it struggling to arise in her, then present- 
ly, either by silence or by diverting to another matter, she labors to 
stifle it. 

And while she is suppressing the sinfulness of this passion, she 
undertakes also that most difficult task of taming the tongue : and as 
it is necessary with unruly beasts, she begins roughly with it, ties it 
up with a most strong resolution, and scarce suffers it to speak, lest 
she should offend with her tongue : thus for some while it was strait- 
ened, and then she loosed it a little with these two cautions. 

First, that it should never speak evil of any man, though truly, 
but only upon a design of charity, to reclaim him from that evil : and 
because it is not ordinary to reclaim any vicious person in his ab- 
sence, therefore her charge is peremptory to her tongue, that it never 
should speak evil of any man, were he most notoriously vicious, if he 
were absent, and not like to be amended by it: a strict rule this; yet 
verily I persuade myself, that for a long time before her death she 
most punctually observed it ; she accounted it a crime to speak evil 
falsely of any man ; and it went for a slander with her, as well it 
might, to speak evil truly of any one, unless it were in love. 

The second caution her tongue had, was, that, as much as was 
possible, it should keep in every idle word, and speak out only that 
which was to edification. 

The Thessalonians were famous for speaking to the edification one 
of another, (1 Thess. v. 11,) and this Thessalonian language our good 
lady studied with as much diligence and earnestness, as we ordinarily 
study a deep science, or a gainful mystery : and now she is very slow 
to speak, as the apostle exhorts; and, where she cannot rule the dis- 
course to edification, she sits silent, and refrains even from good 
words, though it be pain and grief to her. 

And of late she distinguished between civil and spiritual edifica- 
tion, and scarcely allowed herself discourses for civil edification of 
her friends or neighbors in worldly matters : spiritual edification in 
heavenly things was all her aim. 



LADY FALKLAND. 95 

And her care was the same in writing as in speaking ; not a vain, 
not an idle word must slip from her pen ; she thought not her soul 
clean, if there were such a blot in her paper. In her letters, no sa- 
vor of compliment at all ; and she judged herself guilty of a trespass 
if she subscribed herself, Your servant, to whom she was not real- 
ly so. 

And for that other temperance in diet, as well as in speech, she 
was very eminent. A small quantity of meat or drink, and of sleep 
and ease, sufficed her. 

She was most respectful to her superiors; and most courteous and 
affable towards inferiors ; and very cautious lest she should give of- 
fense to one or other, either in word or gesture; and as cautious too, 
lest any of them should take offense at any speech, or look of hers, 
towards them ; " for either way," said she, " in offenses given or 
taken, God is offended." 

More than once or twice of late she brought her gift to the altar, 
was in her closet upon her knees towards prayer, and there she re- 
membered that her brother might possibly have somewhat against 
her, for such a word, or such a look, or a neglective silence a little 
before ; and she left her gift at the altar, and went, and was recon- 
ciled ; asked pardon, and then came and offered : so that her chief 
care was still to lift up in prayer pure hands, without wrath ; if there 
were any wrath in her against others, or any in others against her, 
she would have it allayed before she offered her gift of prayer. 

And though all these graces and virtues, by God's help, did thus 
increase in her, yet a true poverty of spirit increased also in her. 
The more holy, the more pious she was, the more humbly she walk- 
ed with God : in her greatest abundance she complained most of 
spiritual wants. Sure the bright lustre of her virtue gave her an ad- 
vantage to espy many corruptions in herself which she could not be- 
fore ; and these she lamented more sadly now than heretofore. 

And now in the very last stage of her Christian race, she grows 
so exact, that all times seems tedious to her, which" tends not to heav- 
en ; and thereupon she now resolves to get loose from the multitude 
of her worldly employments ; and provides to remove from her state- 
ly mansion, to a little house near adjoining; and in that house and 
garden, with a book, and a wheel, and a maid or two, to retire her- 
self from worldly business, and unnecessary visits, and so spend her 
whole time : and she took as great delight in projecting this humilia- 
tion and privacy, as others do, in being advanced to public honors 
and state employments. 

Now toward the end of her race, all her strength seems weakness, 
and her quickest speed seems slothfulness ; therefore at Christmas 
last she prepared to be at the holy communion with the first ; and 
after that, her soul still wanting the strength and vigor it aimed at, 
she thinks of coming with the last too, the next Lord's-day : but that 
very morning she had a very sore conflict, and great anguish in spir- 



96 MEMOIRS OF 

it: onetime her unworthiness, another time her dulness, and dry- 
ness, deterred her from approaching to the holy Sacrament ; and then 
the singularity and unaccustomedness of receiving so often, dissuad- 
ed her ; after an hour or two, some reason she found to presume this 
might be from the devil, her grand enemy, who was unwilling that 
the castle which he now besieged should be double-walled against 
him, and thereupon she continues her resolution, and came to the 
blessed Sacrament that second day also, and received with it much 
comfort and peace. And not many days after, the devil brought his 
strongest batteries and labored to take this castle by storm ; tempta- 
tions again she had, and those vehement and fierce, to suspect her 
whole course of life, as so full of weakness at best, and oftentimes so 
full of gross corruptions ; her faith so weak, her repentance so faint, 
that God would not accept of her : but her shield of faith in Christ's 
merits soon repelled these darts, and her wonted sanctuary of prayer 
secured her presently from this storm of temptation. 

And in peace and tranquillity of mind, her piety, and zeal of jus- 
tice, hurry her to London, in the bitterest season of this winter, to 
take order for the discharge of some engagements : this she knew 
was her duty, and that she herself should take that journey, was con- 
ceived the necessary means to perform that duty, and therefore she 
ventures upon it and leaves the success to God. 

At London she strengthens herself yet more, for the final period 
of her race, by receiving the holy Sacrament again ; but alas ! mad- 
am, though her inward strength increases, her outward strength de- 
cays, and her weak consumptive body, by a cold there taken, grows 
weaker : yet thence she came homeward 5 and at Oxford her cough 
and cold very much increasing, she with most earnest prayers, and 
holy meditations, which a pious and learned divine suggested to her, 
prepares herself for death. 

After a while, they who were about her fearing the pangs of death 
to be upon her, began to weep and lament ; the whole company grew 
sad and heavy ; she only continued in her former condition, not at 
all sorrowful, nor affrighted by these messengers of death : then the 
physician coming, and, upon consideration, saying, "Here is no 
sign of death, nor of much danger ; by God's help she may recover 
again." The whole company was very much comforted, and cheer- 
ed ; she only in her former indifferency ; no alteration at all could 
be perceived in her, as if she had been the only party in the cham- 
ber unconcerned in it ; neither fear of death could grieve nor trouble 
her, nor hopes of life and health rejoice her : " I have wholly resign- 
ed up myself to God," said she, " and not mine, but his will be done, 
whether in life or death." She was not afraid to live, and still en- 
dure the miseries of this life, and ever and anon encounter with Sa- 
tan too, because she had a powerful God able to uphold her ; nor yet 
afraid to die, and appear at God's judgment-seat, because she had a 
merciful Redeemer, willing to save her. 



LADY FALKLAND. 97 

They who write of perfection, account it an high degree to have 
u Vitam in patientid et mortem in voto, To be content to live, but 
desirous to die :" yet surely, this, "In cequilibrio ad vitam, et ad 
mortem, To be wholly indifferent, and to be most equally inclined to 
either," to desire nothing, to fear nothing, but wholly to resign our- 
selves to God, accounting that to be the best, whatsoever it is, which 
he pleases to send. This, this is to be a strong man in Christ ; and 
this in our most pious lady was a very near approach unto perfection. 

It was related for a very great virtue in St. Cyprian, that, "Maluit 
obsequi prceceptis Christi, quam vel sic coronari, He had rather live 
and obey God, than die and reign in glory :" But this, to have no 
propensity at all more to one than to the other, to be wholly indiffer- 
ent, to work on still in God's vineyard, or to be called up to heaven, 
to receive pay, this may be a greater virtue : and this perfect indif- 
ference to do, or suffer God's will, in life, or death, appearing in this 
servant of God, was such an act of self-denial, which they who ob- 
served it in her, could not but set a special character upon, most wor- 
thy to be commended to your ladyship. 

Thus she was brought from Oxford home; and now being far spent 
and near her end, she could speak little, yet expressed a great deal 
of thankfuluess to God, who had brought her safe to die in her own 
house, among her dearest friends. 

And there she shewed those friends a rare pattern of patience in 
the extremity of her sickness. 

But the tranquillity of mind, which she had in these her last days, 
was most observable ; that the devil, who had so often perplexed her 
with violent temptations, should now leave her to rest and ease : she 
was wont to fear his most violent assaults on her death-bed, as his 
practice commonly is ; but now God, it seems, had chained him up, 
andrfenabled her by his grace to tread Satan under her feet, not a 
word of complaint, nor the least disturbance, or disquiet, to be per- 
ceived by her, which is a sufficient argument to us, who knew how 
open a breast she had to reveal any thing in that kind, especially to 
divines, whereof she had now store about her, of her exceeding great 
quietness and peace : and this tranquillity of mind more clearly now 
appearing at her death, than ordinarily in the time of her health, is a 
great evidence to me, of God's most tender mercy and love towards 
her, and of some good assurance in her, of her salvation. 

This quiet gave her leave, though now very faint and weak, to be 
most vigorous, and most instant at prayers : she calls for other help 
very faintly ; but for prayers, most heartily and often, in those few 
hours she lived at home ; and after the office of the morning was 
performed, she gave strict charge, that every one of her family, who 
could be spared from her, should go to church and pray for her; and 
then in a word of exhortation to them who stayed by her, saying, 
" Fear God, fear God," she most sweetly spent her breath ; and so 
most comfortably yielded up her spirit to him who made it ; and was, 

13 



98 MEMOIRS OF 

we doubt not, admitted into heaven, into the number of saints of God, 
there to reign in the glory of God for evermore. 

Your servant in Christ Jesus, 
I. D. 

April 15, 1647. 

Note. — The above beautiful Memoir, supposed to have been writ- 
ten by Lady Falkland's chaplain, gives no account of her family or 
husband, which of course were well known to those for whom it was 
first intended. To supply this desideratum, the following sketch of 
her husband is here subjoined from Lord Clarendon's History. 

"In the unhappy battle of Newbury was slain the lord viscount 
Falkland ; a person of such prodigious parts of learning and knowl- 
edge, of that inimitable sweetness and delight in conversation, of so 
flowing and obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of 
that primitive simplicity and integrity of life, that if there were no 
other brand upon this odious and accursed civil war, than that single 
loss, it must be most infamous and execrable to all posterity. 

"Before he came to twenty years of age, he was master of a no- 
ble fortune, which descended to him by the gift of a grandfather, 
without passing through his father or mother, who were then both 
alive, and not well enough contented to find themselves passed by 
in the descent. His education for some years had been in Ireland, 
where his father was lord deputy; so that, when he returned into 
England, to the possession of his fortune, he was unentangled with 
any acquaintance or friends, which usually grow up by the custom 
of conversation ; and therefore was to make a pure election of his 
company; which he chose by other rules than were prescribed to 
the young nobility of that time. And it cannot be denied, though 
he admitted some few to his friendship for the agreeableness of their 
natures, and their undoubted affection to him, that his familiarity and 
friendship, for the most part, was with men of the most eminent and 
sublime parts, and of untouched reputation in point of integrity; and 
such men had a title to his bosom. 

" He was a great cherisher of wit, and fancy, and good parts in 
any man ; and, if he found them clouded with poverty or want, a 
most liberal and bountiful patron towards them, even above his for- 
tune ; of which, in those administrations, he was such a dispenser, 
as, if he had been trusted with it to such uses, and if there had been 
the least of vice in his expense, he might have been thought too 
prodigal. He was constant and pertinacious in whatsoever he re- 
solved to do, and not to be wearied by any pains that were necessa- 
ry to that end. And therefore having once resolved not to see Lon- 
don, which he loved above all places, till he had perfectly learned 
the Greek tongue, he went to his own house in the country, and 
pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it will not be believed 
in how short a time he was master of it, and accurately read all the 
Greek historians. 



LADY FALKLAND. 99 

" In this time, his house being within ten miles of Oxford, he con- 
tracted familiarity and friendship with the most polite and accurate 
men of that university; who found such an immenseness of wit, and 
such a solidity of judgment in him, so infinite a fancy, bound in by 
a most logical ratiocination, such a vast knowledge, that he was not 
ignorant in any thing, yet such an excessive humility, as if he had 
known nothing, that they frequently resorted, and dwelt with him, as 
in a college situated in a purer air ; so that his house was a university 
in a less volume ; whither they came not so much for repose as study ; 
and to examine ana refine those grosser propositions, which laziness 
and consent made current in vulgar conversation. 

" Many attempts were made upon him by the instigation of his 
mother, (who was a lady of another persuasion in religion, and of a 
most masculine understanding, allayed with the passions and infirmi- 
ties of her own sex,) to pervert him in his piety to the church of 
England, and to reconcile him to that of Rome ; which they prose- 
cuted with the more confidence, because he declined no opportunity 
or occasion of conference with those of that religion, whether priests 
or laics; having diligently studied the controversies, and exactly read 
all, or the choicest of the Greek and Latin fathers, and having a 
memory so stupendous, that he remembered, on all occasions, what- 
soever he read. And he was so great an enemy to that passion and 
uncharitableness, which he saw produced, by difference of opinion, 
in matters of religion, that in all those disputations with priests, and 
others of the Roman church, he affected to manifest all possible ci- 
vility to their persons, and estimation of their parts ; which made 
them retain still some hope of his reduction, even when they had 
given over offering further reasons to him to that purpose. But this 
charity towards them was much lessened, and any correspondence 
with them quite declined, when, by sinister arts, they had corrupted 
his two younger brothers, being both children, and stolen them from 
his house, and transported them beyond seas, and perverted his sis- 
ters : upon which occasion he wrote two large discourses against the 
principal positions of that religion, with that sharpness of style, and 
full weight of reason, that the church is deprived of great jewels 
in the concealment of them, and that they are not published to the 
world." 

" He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper, and so 
far from fear, that he was not without appetite of danger ; and there- 
fore, upon any occasion of action, he always engaged his person in 
those troops, which he thought, by the forwardness of the command- 
ers, to be most like to be furthest engaged ; and in all such encount- 
ers he had about him a strange cheerfulness and companionableness, 
without at all affecting the execution that was then principally to be 
attended, in which he took no delight, but took pains to prevent it, 
where it was not, by resistance, necessary : insomuch that at Edge- 
hill, when the enemy was routed, he was like to have incurred great 



100 MEMOIRS OF 

peril, by interposing to save those who had thrown away their arms, 
and against whom, it may be, others were more fierce for their hav- 
ing thrown them away : insomuch as a man might think, he came 
into the field only out of curiosity to see the face of danger, and 
charity to prevent the shedding of blood. Yet in his natural incli- 
nation he acknowledged he was addicted to the profession of a sol- 
dier ; and shortly after he came to his fortune, and before he came 
to age, he went into the Low Countries, with a resolution of pro- 
curing command, and to give himself up to it, from which he was 
converted by the complete inactivity of that summer : and so he re- 
turned into England, and shortly after entered upon that vehement 
course of study we mentioned before, till the first alarum from the 
north ; and then again he made ready for the field, and though he 
received some repulse in the command of a troop of horse, of which 
he had a promise, he went a volunteer with the earl of Essex." 

" When there was any overture or hope of peace, he would be 
more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press any 
thing which he thought might promote it; and sitting among his 
friends, often, after a deep silence and frequent sighs, would, with a 
shrill and sad accent, ingeminate the word Peace, Peace; and would 
passionately profess, "that the very agony of the war, and the view 
of the calamities and desolation the kingdom did and must endure, 
took his sleep from him, and would shortly break his heart." This 
made some think, or pretend to think, "that he was so much ena- 
mored of peace, that he would have been glad the king should 
have bought it at any price ;" which was a most unreasonable ca- 
lumny. As if a man, that was himself the most punctual and pre- 
cise in every circumstance that might reflect upon conscience or 
honor, could have wished the king to have commited a trespass 
against either. And yet this senseless scandal made some impres- 
sion upon him, or at least he used it for an excuse of the daringness 
of his spirit ; for at the leaguer before Gloucester, when his friends 
passionately reprehended him for exposing his person unnecessarily 
to danger, (as he delighted to visit the trenches, and nearest ap- 
proaches, and to discover what the enemy did,) as being so much 
beside the duty of his place, that it might be understood against it, 
he would say merrily, " that his office* could not take away the privi- 
leges of his age ; and that a secretary in war might be present at the 
greatest secret of danger;" but withal alleged seriously, "that it 
concerned him to be more active in enterprises of hazard than other 
men ; that all might see, that his impatience for peace proceeded not 
from pusillanimity, or fear to adventure his own person." 

" In the morning before the battle, as always upon action, he was 
very cheerful, and put himself into the first rank of the lord Byron's 
regiment, who was then advancing upon the enemy, who had lined 

* He was secretary of war, under Kirjg Charles I. 



LADY FALKLAND. 101 

the hedges on both sides with musketeers ; from whence he was 
shot with a musket in the lower part of the belly, and in the instant 
falling from his horse, his body was not found till the next morning ; 
till when, there was some hope he might have been a prisoner ; 
though his nearest friends, who knew his temper, received small 
comfort from that imagination. Thus fell that incomparable young 
man, in the four and thirtieth year of his age, having so much des- 
patched the business of life, that the oldest rarely attain to that im- 
mense knowledge, and the youngest enter not into the world with 
more innocence : whosoever leads such a life, need not care upon 
how short warning it be taken from him." 



102 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 



WRITTEN BY HERSELF. 



The Almighty Author of all beings, in his various providences, 
whereby he conducts the. lives of men from the cradle to the tomb, 
exercises no less wisdom and goodness than he manifests power and 
greatness in their creation ; but such is the stupidity of blind mortals, 
that instead of employing their studies in these admirable books of 
providence, wherein God daily exhibits to us glorious characters of 
his love, kindness, wisdom, and justice, they ungratefully regard them 
not, and call the most wonderful operations of the great God the com- 
mon accidents of human life, especially if they be such as are usual, 
and exercised towards them in ages wherein they are not very capable 
of observation, and whereon they seldom employ any reflection ; for 
in things great and extraordinary, some perhaps will take notice of 
God's working, who either forget or believe not that he takes as well 
a care and account of their smallest concerns, even the hairs of 
their heads. 

Finding myself in some kind guilty of this general neglect, I thought 
it might be the means to stir up my thankfulness for things past, and 
to encourage my faith for the future, if I recollected, as much as I 
have heard or can remember, the passages of my youth, and the 
general and particular providences exercised towards me, both in 
the entrance and progress of my life. Herein I meet with so many 
special indulgences as required a distinct consideration, they being 
all of them to be regarded as talents intrusted to my improvement 
for God's glory. The parents by whom I received my life, the 
places where I began and continued it, the time when I was brought 
forth to be a witness of God's wonderful workings in the earth, the 
rank that was given me in my generation, and the advantages I re- 
ceived in my person, each of them carries along with it many mercies 
which are above my utterance; and as they give me infinite cause 
of glorifying God's goodness, so I cannot reflect on them without 
deep humiliation for the small improvement I have made of so rich 
a stock ; which, that I may yet by God's grace better employ, I shall 
recall and seriously ponder ; and first, as far. as I have since learnt, 
set down the condition of things in the place of my nativity at that 
time when I was sent into the world. It was on the 29th day of 
January, in the year of our Lord 16 j|, that in the Tower of Lon- 
don, the principal city of the English Isle, I was about four of the 



MEMOIRS, &C 103 

clock in the morning, brought forth to behold the ensuing light. My 
father was Sir Allen Apsley, Lieutenant of the Tower of London ; 
my mother, his third wife, was Lucy, the youngest daughter of Sir 
John St. John, of Lidiard Tregoz, in Wiltshire, by his second wife, 
My father had then living a son and a daughter by his former wives, 
and by my mother three sons, I being her eldest daughter. The land 
was then at peace, it being towards the latter end of the reign of King 
James, if that quietness may be called a peace, which was rather 
like the calm and smooth surface of the sea, whose dark womb is 
already impregnated of a horrid tempest. 

Whoever considers England, will find it no small favor of God to 
have been made one of its natives, both upon spiritual and outward 
accounts. The happiness of the soil and air contribute all things that 
are necessary to the use or delight of man's life. The celebrated 
glory of this Isle's inhabitants, ever since they received a mention in 
history, confers some honor upon everyone of her children, and with 
it an obligation to continue in that magnanimity and virtue which hath 
famed this Island, and raised her head in glory higher than the great 
kingdoms of the neighboring Continent. Britain hath been as a gar- 
den enclosed, wherein all things that man can wish, to make a pleas- 
ant life, are planted and grow in her own soil, and whatsoever for- 
eign countries yield to increase admiration and delight, are brought 
in by her fleets. The people, by the plenty of their country, not be- 
ing forced to toil for bread, have ever addicted themselves to more 
generous employments, and been reckoned, almost in all ages, as val- 
iant warriors as any part of the world sent forth ; insomuch that the 
greatest Roman captains thought it not unworthy of their expeditions, 
and took great glory in triumphs for imperfect conquests. Lucan 
upbraids Julius Caesar for returning hence with a repulse, and it was 
two hundred years before the land could be reduced into a Roman 
province ; which at length was done, and such of the nation, then 
called Picts, as scorned servitude, were driven into the barren coun- 
try of Scotland, where they have ever since remained a perpetual 
trouble to the successive inhabitants of this place. The Britons that 
thought it better to work for their conquerors in a good land, than to 
have the freedom to starve in a cold and barren quarter, were by de- 
grees fetched away, and wasted in the civil broils of these Roman 
lords, till the land, almost depopulated, lay open to the incursions of 
every borderer, and were forced to call a stout warlike people, the 
Saxons, out of Germany, to their assistance. These willingly came 
at their call, but were not so easily sent out again, nor persuaded to 
let their hosts inhabit with them, for they drove the Britons into the 
mountains of Wales, and seated themselves in those pleasant coun- 
tries, which from the new masters received a new name, and ever 
since retained it, being called England 3 on which the warlike Dane 
made many attempts, with various success; but after about two or 
three hundred years' vain contest, they were for ever driven out, with 



104 MEMOIRS OF 

shame and loss, and the Saxon Heptarchy melted into a monarchy, 
which continued till the superstitious prince, who was sainted for his 
ungodly chastity, left an empty throne to him that could seize it. He 
who first set up his standard in it, could not hold it, but with his life 
left it again for the Norman usurper, who partly by violence, partly 
by falsehood, laid here the foundation of his monarchy in the peo- 
ple's blood, in which it hath swam about five hundred years, till the 
flood that bore it was ploughed into such deep furrows as had almost 
sunk the proud vessel. Of those Saxons that remained subjects to 
the Norman conqueror, my father's family descended ; of those Nor- 
mans that came in with him my mother's was derived ; both of them, 
as all the rest in England, contracting such affinity, by mutual mar- 
riages, that the distinction remained but a short space, Normans and 
Saxons becoming one people, who by their valor grew terrible to all 
the neighboring princes, and have not only bravely quitted themselves 
in their own defense, but have shewed abroad how easily they could 
subdue the world, if they did not prefer the quiet enjoyment of their 
own part above the conquest of the whole. 

Better laws and a happier constitution of government no nation 
ever enjoyed, it being a mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and de- 
mocracy, with sufficient fences against the pest of every one of those 
forms, tyranny, faction, and confusion ; yet it is not possible for man 
to devise such just and excellent bounds, as will keep in wild ambi- 
tion, when princes' flatterers encourage that beast to break his fence, 
which it hath often done, with miserable consequences both to the 
prince and people ; but could never in any age so tread down popu- 
lar liberty, but that it rose again with renewed vigor, till at length it 
trod on those that trampled it before. And in the just bounds where- 
in our kings were so well hedged in, the surrounding princes have with 
terror seen the reproof of their usurpations over their free brethren, 
whom they rule rather as slaves than subjects, and are only served for 
fear, but not for love ; whereas this people have ever been as affec- 
tionate to good, as unpliable to bad sovereigns. 

Nor is it only valor and generosity that renown this nation ; in arts 
we have advanced equal to our neighbors, and in those that are most 
excellent, exceeded them. The world hath not yielded men more 
famous in navigation, nor ships better built or furnished. Agricul- 
ture is as ingeniously.practised ; the English archery were the terror 
of Christendom, and their clothes the ornament; but these low 
things bounded not their great spirits, in all ages it hath yielded men 
as famous in all kinds of learning, as Greece or Italy can boast of. 

And to complete the crown of all their glory, reflected from the 
lustre of their ingenuity, valor, wit, learning, justice, wealth and boun- 
ty, their piety and devotion to God and his worship, hath made them 
one of the most truly noble nations in the Christian world ; God having, 
as it were, enclosed a people here, out of the vast common of the world, 
to serve him with a pure and undefiled worship. Lucius, the Brit- 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 105 

ish king, was one of the first monarchs of the earth that received the 
faith of Christ into his heart and kingdom : Henry the Eighth, the 
first prince that broke the antichristian yoke off from his own and 
his subjects' neck. Here it was that the first Christian emperor* re- 
ceived his crown : here began the early dawn of gospel light, by 
Wickliffe and other faithful Witnesses, whom God raised up after the 
black and horrid midnight of antichristianism, and a more plentiful 
harvest of devout confessors, constant martyrs, and holy worshippers 
of God, hath not grown in any field of the church, throughout all 
ages, than those whom God hath here glorified his name and gospel 
by. Yet hath not this wheat been without its tares. God, in com- 
parison with other countries, hath made this as a paradise ; so, to 
complete the parallel, the serpent hath in all times been busy to se- 
duce, and not unsuccessful, ever stirring up opposers to the infant 
truths of Christ. 

No sooner was the faith of Christ embraced in this nation, but 
the neighboring heathens invaded the innocent Christians, and slaugh- 
tered multitudes of them ; and when, by the mercy of God, the con- 
quering pagans were afterwards converted, and that there were none 
left to oppose the name of Christ with open hostility ; then the sub- 
tile serpent put off his own horrid appearance, and comes out in a 
Christian dress, to persecute Christ in his poor prophets, that bore 
witness against the corruption of the times. This intestine quarrel 
hath been more successful to the devil, and more afflictive to the 
church, than all open wars ; and I fear, will never happily be deci- 
ded, till the Prince of Peace come to conclude the controversy, 
which at the time of my birth was working up into that tempest, 
wherein I have shared many perils, many fears, and many more mer- 
cies, consolations, and preservations, which I shall have occasion to 
mention in other places. 

From the place of my birth I shall only desire to remember the 
goodness of the Lord who hath caused my lot to fall in a good 
ground, who hath fed me in a pleasant pasture, where the well 
springs of life flow to all that desire to drink of them. And this is 
no small favor, if I consider how many poor people perish among 
the heathen, where they never hear the name of Christ ; how many 
poor .Christians spring up in countries enslaved by Turkish and anti- 
christian tyrants whose souls and bodies languish under miserable 
slavery ! None knows what mercy it is to live under a good and 
wholesome law, that have not considered the sad condition of being 
subject to the will of an unlimited man ; and surely it is too universal 
a sin in this nation, that the common mercies of God to the whole 
land are so slightly regarded, and so inconsiderately passed over : 
certainly these are circumstances which much magnify God's loving 



Constantiue. 

14 



106 MEMOIRS OF 

kindness and his special favor to all that are of English birth, and 
call for a greater return of duty from us than from all other people 
of the world. 

Nor is the place only, but the time of my coming into the world, 
a considerable mercy to me. It was not in the midnight of popery, 
nor in the dawn of the gospel's restored day, when light and 
shades were blended and almost undistinguished, but when the Sun 
of truth was exalted in his progress and hastening towards a meridian 
glory. It was indeed early in the morning, God being pleased to al- 
low me the privilege of beholding the admirable growth of gospel 
light in my days : and oh ! that my soul may never forget to bless 
and praise his name for the wonders of power and goodness, wisdom, 
and truth, which have been manifested in this my time. 

The next blessing 1 have to consider in my nativity is my parents, 
both of them pious and virtuous in their own conversation, and care- 
ful instructors of my youth, not only by precept but example : 
which, if I had leisure and ability, I should have transmitted to my 
posterity, both to give them the honor due from me in such a grate- 
ful memorial, and to increase my children's improvement of the pat- 
terns they set them ; but since I shall detract from those I would 
celebrate, by my imperfect commemorations, I shall content myself 
to sum up some few things for my own use, and let the rest alone, 
which I either knew not, or have forgotten, or cannot worthily ex- 
press. 

My grandfather by my father's side was a gentleman of a compe- 
tent estate, about seven or eight hundred pounds a year, in Sussex. 
He being descended of a younger house, had his residence at a place 
called Pulborough ; the family out of which he came was an Apsley 
of Apsley, a town w.here they had been seated before the conquest, 
and ever since continued, till of late the last heir male of that eldest 
house, being the son of Sir Edward Apsley, is dead without issue, 
and his estate gone with his sister's daughters into other families. 
Particularities concerning my father's kindred or country I never 
knew much, by reason of my youth at the time of his death, and 
my education in far distant places only in general I have heard that 
my grandfather was a man well reputed and beloved in his country, 
and that it had been such a continued custom for my ancestors to 
take wives at home, that there was scarcely a family of any note in 
Sussex to which they were not by intermarriages nearly related ; but 
1 was myself a stranger to them all except my Lord Goring, who 
living at court, I have seen with my father, and heard of him, be- 
cause he was appointed one of my father's executors, though he de- 
clined the trouble. My grandfather had seven sons, of which my 
father was the youngest : to the eldest he gave his whole estate, and 
to the rest, according to the custom of those times, slight annuities. 
The eldest brother married a gentlewoman of a good family, and by 
her had only one son, whose mother dying, my uncle married himself 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 107 

again to one of his own maids, and by her had three more sons, 
whom, with their mother, my cousin William Apsley, the son of 
the first wife, held in such contempt, that a great while after, dying 
without children, he gave his estate of inheritance to my father, and 
two of my brothers, except about £100 a year to the eldest of his 
half brothers, and annuities of £30 a piece to the three for their 
lives. He died before I was born, but I have heard very honora- 
ble mention made of hirn in our family. The rest of my father's 
brothers went into the wars in Ireland and the Low Countries, and 
there remained none of them, nor their issues, when I was born, 
but only three daughters, who bestowed themselves meanly, and 
their generations are worn out except two or three unregarded chil- 
dren. My father at the death of my grandfather being but a youth 
at school, had not patience to stay the perfecting of his studies, but 
put himself into present action, sold his annuity, bought himself good 
clothes, put some money in his purse, and came to London ; and 
by means of a relation at court, got a place in the household of 
Queen Elizabeth, where he behaved himself so that he won the love 
of many of the court but being young took an affection to gaming, 
and spent most of the money he had in his purse. About that time 
the Earl of Essex was setting forth for Cales voyage, and my father, 
who had a mind to quit his idle court life, procured an employment 
from the victualler of the navy, to go along with that fleet : in which 
voyage he demeaned himself with so much courage and prudence, 
that after his return he was honored with a very noble and proper 
employment in Ireland. There a rich widow, that had many chil- 
dren, cast her affections upon him, and he married her ; but she not 
living many years with him, and having no children by him, after her 
death he distributed all her estate among her children, for whom he 
ever preserved a fatherly kindness, and some of her grandchildren 
were brought up in his house after I was born. He, by God's bless- 
ing, and his fidelity and industry, growing in estate and honor, re- 
ceived a knighthood from King James soon after his coming to the 
crown, for some eminent service done to him in Ireland, which hav- 
ing only heard in my childhood, I cannot perfectly set down. After 
that, growing into a familiarity with Sir George Carew, made now by 
the king, Earl of Totness, a niece of this Earl's, the daughter of 
Sir Peter Carew, who lived a young widow in her uncle's house, 
fell in love with him, which her uncle perceiving, procured a mar- 
riage between them. She had divers children by my father, but 
only two of them, a son and daughter, survived her, she died 
whilst my father was absent from her in Ireland. He led all the 
time of his widowhood a very disconsolate life, careful for nothing 
in the world but to educate and advance the son and daughter, the 
dear pledges she had left him, for whose sake he quitted himself of 
his employments abroad, and procured himself the office of victual- 
ler of the navy, a place then both of credit and great revenue. His 



108 MEMOIRS OF 

friends considering his solitude, had procured him a match of a very 
rich widow, who was a lady of as much discretion as wealth ; but while 
he was upon this design, he chanced to see my mother at the house of 
Sir William St. John, who had married her eldest sister, and though 
he went on his journey, yet something in her person and behavior he 
carried along with him, which would not let him accomplish it, but 
brought him back to my mother. She was of a noble family, being 
the youngest daughter of Sir John St. John, of Lidiar Tregoz, in the 
county of Wilts ; her father and mother died when she was not 
above five years of age, and yet at her nurse's, from whence she 
was carried to be brought up in the house of Lord Grandison, her 
father's younger brother, an honorable and excellent person, but 
married to a lady so jealous of him, and so ill-natured in her jeal- 
ous fits to any thing that was related to him, that her cruelties to my 
mother exceeded the stories of step-mothers : the rest of my aunts, 
my mother's sisters, were dispersed to several places, where they 
grew up till my uncle Sir John St. John being married to the daugh- 
ter of Sir Thomas Laten, they were all again brought home to their 
brother's house. There were not in those days so many beautiful 
women found in any family as these, but my mother was by most 
judgments preferred before all her elder sisters, who, something en- 
vious at it, used her unkindly, yet all the suitors that came to them 
still turned their addresses to her, which she in her youthful innocen- 
cy neglected, till one of greater name, estate, and reputation than the 
rest, happened to fall deeply in love with her, and to manage, it so 
discreetly, that my mother could not but entertain him ; and my un- 
cle's wife, who had a mother's kindness for her, persuaded her to 
remove herself from her sister's envy, by going along with her to the 
Isle of Jersey, where her father was governor ; which she did, and 
there went into the town, and boarded in a French minister's house, 
to learn the language, that minister having been, by the persecution 
in France, driven to seek his shelter there. Contracting a dear 
friendship" with this holy man and his wife, she was instructed in 
their Geneva discipline, which she liked so much better than our ser- 
vice, that she could have been contented to have lived there, had 
not a powerful passion in her heart drawn her back. But at her 
return she met with many afflictions ; the gentleman who had pro- 
fessed so much love to her, in her . absence had been, by most vile 
practices and treacheries, drawn out of his senses, and into the mar- 
riage of a person whom, when he recovered his reason, he hated : 
but that served only to augment his misfortune ; and the circumstan- 
ces of that story not being necessary to be here inserted, I shall only 
add, that my mother lived in my uncle's house, secretly disconten- 
ted at this accident, but was comforted by the kindness of my un- 
cle's wife, who had contracted such an intimate friendship with her, 
that they seemed to have but one soul. And in this kindness she 
had some time a great solace, till some malicious persons had wrought 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 109 

some jealousies, which were very groundless in my uncle, concerning 
his wife ; but his nature being inclinable to that passion, which was 
fomented in him by subtile, wicked persons, and my mother endeav- 
oring to vindicate her injured innocence, she was herself not well 
treated by my uncle, whereupon she left his house, with a resolution 
to withdraw herself into the island, where the good minister was, 
and there to wear out her life in the service of God. While she was 
deliberating, and had fixed upon it in her own thoughts, resolving to 
impart it to none, she was with Sir William St. John, who had 
married my aunt, when my father accidentally came in there, and 
fell so heartily in love with her, that he persuaded her to marry him, 
which she did, and her melancholy made her conform cheerfully to 
that gravity of habit and conversation, which was becoming the wife 
of such a person, wit) was then forty eight years of age, and she not 
above sixteen. The first year of their marriage was crowned with a 
son, called after my father's name, and born at East Smithfield, in that 
house of the king's which belonged to my father's employment in the 
navy : the next year they removed to the Tower of London, whereof 
my father was made lieutenant, and there had two sons more before 
me, and four daughters and two sons after : of all which, only three 
sons and two daughters survived him at the time of his death, which 
was in the sixty third year of his age, after he had three years be- 
fore languished of a consumption that succeeded a fever which he 
got in the unfortunate voyage to the Isle of Rhe. 

He died in the month of May, 1630, sadly bewailed by not only 
all his dependants and relations, but by all that were acquainted with 
him, for he never conversed with any to whom he was not at some 
time or in some way beneficial ; and his nature was so delighted in 
doing good, that it won him the love of all men, even his enemies, 
whose envy and malice it was his custom to overcome with obliga- 
tions. He had great natural parts, but was too active in his youth to 
stay the heightening of them by study of dead writings, but in the liv- 
ing books of men's conversations he soon became so skilful, that he 
was never mistaken but where his own good would not let him give 
him credit to the evil he discerned in others. He was a most indul- 
gent husband, and no less kind to his children ; a most noble master, 
who thought it not enough to maintain his servants honorably while 
they were with him, but for all that deserved it provided offices or 
settlements, as for children. He was a father to all his prisoners, 
sweetening with such compassionate kindness their restraint, that the 
affliction of a prison was not felt in his days. He had a singular 
kindness for all persons that were eminent either in learning or arms; 
and when, through the ingratitude and vice of that age, many of the 
wives and children of Queen Elizabeth's glorious captains were re- 
duced to poverty, his purse was their common treasury, and they 
knew not the inconvenience of decayed fortunes till he was dead : 
many of those valiant seamen he maintained in prison, many he re- 



110 MEMOIRS OF 

deemed out of prison, and cherished with an extraordinary bounty. 
If among his excellencies one outshined the rest, it was the generous 
liberality of his mind, wherein goodness and greatness were so equal- 
ly distributed, that they mutually embellished each other. Pride and 
covetousness had not the least place in his breast. As he was in 
love with true honor, so he contemned vain titles ; and though in his 
youth he accepted an addition to his birth, in his riper years he refu- 
sed a baronetcy, which the king offered him. He was severe in the 
regulating of his family, especially would not endure the least im- 
modest behavior or dress in any woman under his roof. There was 
nothing he hated more than an insignificant gallant, that could only 
make his legs and prune himself, and court a lady, but had not brains 
to employ himself in things more suitable to man's nobler sex. Fi- 
delity in his trust, love and loyalty to his prince, were not the least 
of his virtues, but those wherein he was not excelled by any of his 
own or succeeding times. The large estate he reaped by his happy 
industry, he did many times over as freely resign again to the king's 
service, till he left the greatest part of it at his death in the king's 
hands. All his virtues wanted not the crown of all virtue, piety and 
true devotion to God. As his life was a continued exercise of faith 
and charity, it concluded with prayers and blessings, which were the 
only consolations his desolate family could receive in his death. Nev- 
er did any two better agree in magnanimity and bounty than he and 
my mother, who seemed to be actuated by the same soul, so little 
did she grudge any of his liberalities to strangers, or he contradict 
any of her kindnesses to all her relations ; her house being a com- 
mon home to all of them, and a nursery to their children. He gave 
her a noble allowance of 300/. a year for her own private expense, 
and had given her all her own portion to dispose of how she pleas- 
ed, as soon as she was married, which she suffered to increase in her 
friend's hands : and what my father allowed her she spent not in 
vanities, although she had what was rich and requisite upon occa- 
sions, but she laid most of it out in pious and charitable uses. Sir 
Walter Raleigh and Mr. Ruthen being prisoners in the Tower, and 
addicting themselves to chemistry, she suffered them to make their 
rare experiments at her cost, partly to comfort and divert the poor 
prisoners, and partly to gain the knowledge of their experiments, and 
the medicines to help such poor people as were not able to seek to 
physicians. But these means she acquired a great deal of skill, 
which was very profitable to many all her life. She was not only to 
these, but to all the other prisoners that came into the Tower, as a 
mother. All the time she dwelt in the Tower, if any were sick she 
made them broths and restoratives with her own hands, visited and 
took care of them, and provided them with all necessaries ; if any 
were afflicted she comforted them, so that they felt not the inconven- 
ience of a prison who were in that place. She was not less bounti- 
ful to many poor widows and orphans, whom officers of higher and 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. Ill 

lower rank had left behind them as objects of charity. Her own 
house was filled with distressed families of her relations, whom she 
maintained and supplied in a noble way. The care of the worship 
and service of God, both in her soul and her house, and the educa- 
tion of her children, was her principal care. She was a constant 
frequenter of week-day lectures, and a great lover and encourager 
of good ministers, and most diligent in her private reading and de- 
votions. 

When my father was sick she was not satisfied with the attendance 
of all that were about him, but made herself his nurse, and cook, 
and physician, and, through the blessing of God and her indefatiga- 
ble labors and watching, preserved him a great while longer than the 
physicians thought it possible for his nature to hold out. At length, 
when the Lord took him to rest, she showed as much humility and 
patience, under that great change, as moderation and bounty in her 
more plentiful and prosperous condition, and died in my house at 
Owthorpe, in the county of Nottingham, in the year 1659. The 
privilege of being born of and educated by such excellent parents, 
I have often revolved with great thankfulness for the mercy, and hu- 
miliation that I did not more improve it. After my mother had had 
three sons she was very desirous of a daughter ; and when the wo- 
men at my birth told her I was one, she received me with a great 
deal of joy; and the nurses fancying, because I had more complex- 
ion and beauty than is usual in so young children, that I should not live, 
my mother became fonder of me, and more endeavored to nurse me. 
As soon as I was weaned, a French woman was taken to be my dry 
nurse, and I was taught to speak French and English together. My 
mother, while she was with child of me, dreamed that she was walk- 
ing in the garden with my father, and that a star came down into her 
hand, with other circumstances, which, though I have often heard, I 
minded not enough to remember perfectly ; only my father told her, 
her dream signified she should have a daughter of some extraordina- 
ry eminency ; which thing, like such vain prophecies, wrought, as far 
as it could, its own accomplishment :* for my father and mother fan- 
cying me then beautiful, and more than ordinarily apprehensive, ap- 
plied all their cares, and spared no cost to improve me in my educa- 
tion, which procured me the admiration of those that flattered my pa- 
rents. By the time I was four years old I read English perfectly, 
and having a great memory, I was carried to sermons, and while T 
was very young could remember and repeat them exactly, and being 



* This is an ingenious way of accounting for the fulfilment of superstitious pre- 
dictions and expectations, which might frequently, with close attention, be traced 
to their source, as is here done. It is clear that in the present case it occasioned a 
peculiar care to be taken of her education; and this again caused her mind and 
disposition to take that singular stamp which attracted the notice of Mr. Hutchin- 
son, and led her to the highest situation that she could wish for. 



112 MEMOIRS OF 

caressed, the love of praise tickled me, and made me attend more 
needfully. When I was about seven years of age, I remember I had 
at one time eight tutors in several qualities, languages, music, dancing, 
.writing, and needlework ; but my genius was quite averse from all 
but my book, and that I was so eager of, that my mother thinking it 
prejudiced my health, would moderate me in it ; yet this rather ani- 
mated me than kept me back, and every moment I could steal from 
my play I would employ in any book I could find, when my own 
were locked up from me. After dinner and supper I still had an 
hour allowed me to play, and then I would steal into some hole or 
other to read. My father would have me learn Latin, and I was so 
apt that I outstripped my brothers who were at school, although my 
father's chaplain, that was my tutor, was a pitiful dull fellow. My 
brothers, who had a great deal of wit, had some emulation at the 
progress I made in my learning, which very well pleased my father, 
though my mother would have been contented I had not so wholly 
addicted myself to that as to neglect my other qualities : as for music 
and dancing I profited very little in them, and would never practise 
my lute or harpsichord but when my masters were with me ; and for 
my needle, I absolutely hated it ; play among other children I de- 
spised, and when I was forced to entertain such as came to visit me, 
I tired them with more grave instructions than their mothers, and 
plucked all their babies to pieces, and kept the children in such awe, 
that they were glad when I entertained myself with elder company, 
to whom I was very acceptable, and living in the house with many 
persons that had a great deal of wit, and very profitable serious dis- 
courses being frequent at my father's table and in my mother's draw- 
ing room, I was very attentive to all, and gathered up things that I 
would utter again to the great admiration of many that took my memo- 
ry and imitation for wit. It pleased God, that through the good instruc- 
tions of my mother, and the sermons she carried me to, I was con- 
vinced that the knowledge of God was the most excellent study, and 
accordingly applied myself to it, and to practise as I was taught. I 
used to exhort my mother's maids much, and to turn their idle dis- 
courses to good subjects ; but I thought, when I had done this on the 
Lord's day, and every day performed my due tasks of reading and 
praying, that then I was free to any thing that was not sin ; for I was 
not at that time convinced of the vanity of conversation which was 
not scandalously wicked ; I thought it no sin to learn or hear witty 
songs and amorous sonnets or poems, and twenty things of that kind, 
wherein I was so apt, that I became the confident in all the loves that 
were managed among my mother's young women ; and there was 
none of them but had many lovers, and some particular friends be- 
loved above the rest. 

Here Mrs. Hutchinson's story of herself abruptly breaks off; but, 
from the memoirs of Col. Hutchinson, we learn some further inter- 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 113 

esting particulars. Mr. Hutchinson was in his twenty second year 
when he conceived a romantic prepossession in favor of Miss Aps- 
ley, from what he heard of her in a large party; and at their first 
interview, this prepossession became a fixed and ardent attachment. 
Mrs. Hutchinson piously refers the impression made on his mind to 
Divine Providence. That he should have so strong impulses to- 
wards a stranger whom he never saw, was "certainly," she says, "of 
the Lord, though he perceived it not." It were dangerous, in many 
cases, to draw such a conclusion; but, in this instance, the event jus- 
tifies such a view of the whole transaction. The passage in which 
Mrs. Hutchinson, speaking of herself in the third person, describes 
the warmth of Mr. Hutchinson's attachment, and ascribes to his in- 
fluence the formation of her own character, is too beautiful and char- 
acteristic to be passed over. 

" Never was there a passion more ardent and less idolatrous. He 
loved her better than his life, with inexpressible tenderness and kind- 
ness, had a most high obliging esteem of her, yet still considered 
honor, religion, and duty above her ; nor ever suffered the intrusion 
of such a dotage as should blind him from marking her imperfections. 
These he looked upon with such an indulgent eye, as did not abate 
his love and esteem of her, while it augmented his care to blot out 
all those spots which might make her appear less worthy of that res- 
pect he paid her. And thus indeed he soon made her more equal 
to him than he found her ; for she was a very faithful mirror, reflect- 
ing truly, though but dimly, his own glories upon him, so long as he 
was present ; but she that was nothing before his inspection gave her 
a fair figure, when he was removed, was only filled with a dark mist, 
and never could again take in any delightful object, nor return any 
shining representation. The greatest excellency she had, was the 
power of apprehending, and the virtue of loving his : so, as his 
shadow, she waited on him every where, till he was taken into that 
region of light, which admits of none, and then she vanished into 
nothing. 'Twas not her face he loved ; her honor and her virtue 
were his mistresses, and these (like Pygmalion's) images of his own 
making ; for he polished and gave form to what he found with all 
the roughness of the quarry about it; but meeting with a compliant 
subject for his own wise government, he found as much satisfaction 
as he gave, and never had occasion to number his marriage among 
his infelicities." 

They were married July 3, 1G38. In October, 1641, they took 
up their residence at Mr. Hutchinson's seat at Owthorpe in Notting- 
hamshire, where they had passed but a few peaceful and happy- 
months, when " the kingdom began to blaze out with the long- 
conceived flame of civil war." From this period, the life of Mrs. 
Hutchinson is identified with the narrative she has given of the pub- 
lic transactions in which the Colonel, her husband, took so distin- 
guished a part. Although her own brother, Sir Allen Apsley, and 

15 



114 



MEMOIRS OS" 



the greater part of her relations, took part with the King, Mrs. 
Hutchinson warmly concurred in the patriotic devotion of her hus- 
band to the cause of his country. When Sir Richard Byron, his 
relative, endeavored, through the medium of a friend, to gain over 
the Colonel, then governor of Nottingham Castle, to the royal inter- 
est, using as an argument, that the loss of his whole estate was in- 
evitable if he persisted in the engagement he was in, the Governor 
returned the following answer : " That except he found his own 
heart prone to such treachery, he might consider there was, if noth- 
ing else, so much of a Byron's blood in him, that he should very 
much scorn to betray or quit a trust he had undertaken ; but the 
grounds he went on were such, that he very much despised such a 
thought as to sell his faith for base rewards or fears, and therefore 
could not consider the loss of his estate, which his wife was as wil- 
ling to part with as himself, in this cause, wherein he was resolved 
to persist, in the same place in which it had pleased God to call him 
to the defence of it." On many occasions, the heroic, and at the 
same time amiable character of this extraordinary woman, was illus- 
triously displayed, too often in contrast with the spirit of those dark 
and troubled times. The following passage from the Memoirs, af- 
fords a striking instance. 

"There was a large room, which was the chapel, in the castle. 
This they had filled full of prisoners, besides a very bad prison, 
which was no better than a dungeon, called the Lion's Den. And 
the new Captain Palmer, and another minister, having nothing else 
to do, walked up and down the castle-yard, insulting and beating the 
poor prisoners as they were brought up. In the encounter, one of 
the Derby captains was slain, and five of our men hurt, who, for 
want of another surgeon, were brought to the Governor's wife; and 
she, having some excellent balsams and plasters in her closet, with 
the assistance of a gentleman that had some skill, dressed all their 
wounds, whereof some were dangerous, being all shots, with such 
good success that they were all cured in convenient time. , After 
our hurt men were dressed, as she stood at her chamber door, see- 
ing three of the prisoners sorely cut and carried down bleeding into 
the Lion's Den, she desired the marshal to bring them in to her, and 
bound up and dressed their wounds also; which while she was do- 
ing, Captain Palmer came in and told her, his soul abhorred to see 
this favor to the enemies of God. She replied, she had done noth- 
ing but what she thought was her duty, in humanity to them, as fel- 
low creatures, not as enemies. But he was very ill-satisfied with 
her, and with the Governor presently after, when he came into a 
large room where a very great supper was prepared, and more room 
and meat than guests ; to fill up which, the Governor had sent for 
one Mr. Mason, one of the prisoners, a man of good fashion, who 
had married a relation of his, and was brought up more in fury than 
for any proof of guilt in him, and I know not whether two or three 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 115 

others the Governor had called to meat with him. For which Cap- 
tain Palmer bellowed loudly against him, as a favorer of malignants 
and cavaliers. Who could have thought this godly, zealous man, 
who could scarce eat his supper for grief to see the enemies of God 
thus favored, should have after entered into a conspiracy against the 
Governor, with those very same persons who now so much provoked 
his zeal ? But the Governor took no notice of it, though he set the 
very soldiers a muttering against him and his wife for these poor hu- 
manities." 

Mrs. Hutchinson's singular magnanimity appeared on another oc- 
casion, when, having discovered a conspiracy against the Colonel, 
during his absence from Ovvthorpe, in which the family chaplain, her 
own waiting-woman, and two more servants, were implicated, she 
contented herself with taking active measures to defeat the plot, dis- 
missing the principal accomplices with impunity. Ivie, the author 
of the plot, had attended on the Colonel. Him, Mrs. Hutchinson, 
not being willing to cast him into prison as he deserved, took with 
her immediately to London, and said nothing till he came there. 
" Then she told him how base and treacherous he had been ; but, 
to save her own shame for having entertained so false a person, and 
for her mother's sake, whom he had formerly served, she was willing 
to dismiss him privately, without acquainting the Colonel, who could 
not know but he must punish him. So she gave him something, and 
turned him away, and told her husband, she came only to acquaint 
him with the insurrection, and her own fears of staying in the coun- 
try without him." On their return, having ascertained that the chap- 
lain had been Ivie's confederate, Mrs. Hutchinson "told him private- 
ly of it, and desired him to find a pretence to take his leave of the 
Colonel, that she might not be necessitated to complain, and procure 
him the punishment his treason deserved. He went away thus, but 
so far from being wrought upon, that he hated her to the death for 
her kindness." Conduct like this stands in no need of comment : it 
shewed her to be indeed one who had drunk deep into the spirit of 
the Gospel. 

At the Restoration, Colonel Hutchinson was chiefly indebted to 
the exertions of his admirable wife, and the good offices of her 
brother, Sir Allen Apsley, for the favor extended to him in the first 
instance. She saw that he was ambitious of being a public sacri- 
fice, and " herein only in her whole life, resolved to disobey him, 
and to improve all the affection he had to her for his safety." In 
compliance with her entreaty, he concealed himself, till she had, by 
a letter written in his name to the Speaker, ascertained the temper 
of the House of Commons, who voted the Colonel free without any 
engagement : his only punishment being a discharge from the pres- 
ent parliament, and disqualification for any office, civil or military. 
"Although he was most thankful to God, yet he was not very well 
satisfied in himself for accepting the deliverance. His wife', who 



116 MEMOIRS OF 

thought she had never deserved so well of him, as in the endeavors 
and labors she exercised to bring him off, never displeased him more 
in her life, and had much ado to persuade him to be contented with 
his deliverance." But all her solicitude for his safety could not in- 
duce her to listen for a moment to any measure which would secure 
it at the expense of honor. When a kinsman of hers, of the court 
party, after disclosing to her the secret resolution of the ministry to 
exclude the Colonel from the benefit of the indemnity, told her, "to 
draw her in by examples, how the late statesmen's wives came and 
offered all the information they had gathered from their husbands, 
and how she could not but know more than any of them, and that, 
if yet she would impart any thing that might shew her gratitude, she 
might redeem her family from ruin ;" Mrs. Hutchinson disdained to 
turn informer, replying, that " she perceived any safety one could 
buy of them, was not worth the price of honor and conscience ; that 
she knew nothing of state managements, or, if she did, she would not 
establish herself upon any man's blood and ruin." She tried, in- 
deed, to persuade the Colonel to leave England, which, if he had 
done, he would probably have lived to see the happy re-establishment 
of our constitutional liberty, and to be again a blessing to his coun- 
try; but he considered that his flight would betray a distrust of God's 
providence, and would not take this timely step. They retired to 
Owthorpe, where they were suffered to pass a winter and a summer, 
unmolested, observing the greatest privacy, enjoying themselves 
" with much patience and comfort, not envying the glories and hon- 
ors of the court, nor the prosperity of the wicked." But, on the 
1 lth of October, 1663, the Colonel was put under arrest, by order 
of the Duke of Buckingham, upon alleged suspicion of being con- 
cerned in a treasonable plot. After eight days, he was set at liberty, 
on engaging to stay a week at his own house ; but was again taken 
up on the 23d, and after a week's illegal close imprisonment, was 
brought up to London, and committed, without having undergone 
any examination, to the Tower. After making an ineffectual per- 
sonal application to Secretary Bennet, afterwards Earl of Arlington, 
to obtain for the Colonel leave to see persons on private business, 
Mrs. Hutchinson now submitted to suffer with her high-minded hus- 
band, according to his own will and express injunctions, in patient 
resignation. On his being transferred, still without trial or legal cause 
of imprisonment, to Sandown Castle, his wife, when she "understood 
his bad accommodation, made all the means she could by her friends, 
to procure liberty that she might be in the Castle with him ; but that 
was absolutely denied ; whereupon she and her son and daughter went 
to Deal, and there took lodgings, from whence they walked every 
day on foot to dinner, and back again at night, with horrible toil and 
inconvenience ; and procured the captain's wife to diet them with 
the Colonel, where they had meat good enough, but, through the 
poverty of the people, and their want of all necessaries, and the 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 117 

faculty to order things as they should be, it was very inconvenient to 
them. Yet, the Colonel endured it so cheerfully that he was never 
more pleasant and contented in his life. His wife bore all her own 
toils joyfully enough for the love of him, but could not but be very- 
sad at the sight of his undeserved sufferings ; and he would very 
sweetly and kindly chide her for it, and tell her, that if she were but 
cheerful, he should think this suffering the happiest thing that ever 
befel him." On the 3d of September, Mrs. Hutchinson being gone 
to Ovvthorpe, to fetch her children, the Colonel was seized with the 
ague which carried him off. His wife had left him "with a very sad 
and ill-presaging heart :" she returned only to see his corpse, and to 
receive through his brother his dying message : " Let her, as she is 
above other women, shew herself on this occasion a good Christian, 
and above the pitch of ordinary women." He expired on Lord's 
day evening, Sept. 11, 1664, and was buried at Ovvthorpe; being, 
to use Mrs. Hutchinson's words, " brought home with honor to his 
grave through the dominions of his murderers, who w r ere ashamed 
of his glories, which all their tyrannies could not extinguish with 
his life." 

Of her feelings on this trying occasion, Mrs. Hutchinson observes 
a silence which speaks more loudly than the most impassioned lan- 
guage. Here closes the record, nor is it known how long she sur- 
vived this overwhelming calamity. The Owthorpe estate she sold, 
with the concurrence of her eldest son, to Charles Hutchinson, Esq. 
a half-brother of the Colonel's ; but there is reason to believe, that, 
after selling the estates, the sum to be divided, left each member of 
the family in straitened circumstances. Col. Hutchinson left four sons, 
of whom the youngest only, John, left issue two sons. One of these 
emigrated to America, where his descendants yet venerate the 
memory of their great ancestor. The other is said to have gone out 
as commander of a ship of war given by Queen Anne to the Czar 
Peter, and to have been lost at sea. Of the four daughters who also 
survived Colonel Hutchinson, the youngest lies buried at Owthorpe, 
in the same vault with her father, whom probably she soon followed 
to the grave. Little more is known of her sisters, than that one, to 
whom Mrs. Hutchinson addressed one of her books of devotion, 
married a gentleman of the name of Orgill. 

The " Memoirs of Colonel Hutchinson," have raised his biogra- 
pher to a high niche among the literary and mora] ornaments of her 
country. The eminent qualities of heart and mind which are dis- 
played in that work, have won the admiration of the public, notwith- 
standing what many persons regard as the Puritanic cast of her piety. 
In her religious writings,* the same qualities are not less conspicuous, 
united with a degree of acquaintance with the learning then most in 



*"On the Principles of the Christian Religion; and, On Theology. By Mrs. 
Lucy Hutchinson. 8vo. London, 1817. 



118 MEMOIRS OF 

vogue, reputable to a scholar, and distinguishing in a female, together 
with a considerable superiority to the prejudices of the times. Those 
which have been published by the Editor of the " Memoirs," are, 
a tract " On the Principles of Religion," addressed to her daughter, 
Mrs. Orgill ; and one " On Theology," composed apparently for her 
own improvement, and, it is conjectured, at an earlier period of her 
life. The latter is the more labored and scholastic of the two, 
abounding with learned references to the Greek and Roman clas- 
sics, and to Jewish as well as Christian writers ; but it is less prac- 
tical than the other, and though it contains abundant proofs of the 
Author's intuitive good sense, and many very striking passages, is 
less generally interesting. The former treatise displays all the sim- 
plicity, genuine humility, liberality, and exalted piety of the writer's 
character. Some extracts from this work will form the most appro- 
priate conclusion to the present memoir. 

In the dedication to her daughter, Mrs. Hutchinson thus states her 
design in the work. 

" If any attempts have been made to shake you in principles, I 
bewail it as my neglect of fixing them by precept and example, and 
have written this little summary for you ; not that I think it is any 
thing but what you may, more methodically collected, find in many 
books already writen, and as usefully gather for yourself out of the 
same spiritual garden where I had them ; but that it may lie by you 
as a witness of those sound truths I desired to instruct you in, and, 
as my last exhortation, that you take heed you be not seduced to 
factions and parties in religion, from that catholic faith and universal 
love, wherein all that are true Christians must unite. 

" There never was a time when the truth was more clouded with 
the mists of error, than at this day ; so that it is very difficult for 
young converts not to be infected with some of them ; all the old 
ones, against which the Church of God in and immediately after 
Christ's time so powerfully contended, being renewed in our days, 
and many new stalks growing upon every old poisonous root, the 
broachers and sect-masters coming, many of them, forth in the ap- 
pearance of angels of light. And it is Satan's policy at this day, 
when the gilded baits of the world, and the sweet allurements of the 
flesh will not prevail, then to tempt with a wrested scripture, as he 
dealt even with Christ himself; and if some one opinion draw men 
into a sect, for that they espouse all the erroneous practices and opin- 
ions of that sect, and reject the benefit they might have by spiritual 
converse with Christians of other judgments ; at least receive noth- 
ing from them without it pass the verdict of that sect they incline to. 
But I must, having been very much exercised concerning this thing, 
hold forth to you the testimony that I have received of God, whether 
you will receive it from me or not. Sects are a great sin, and Chris- 
tians ought all to live in the unity of the Spirit ; and though it can- 
not be but that offences will come in the Church, yet, wo be to them 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 119 

by whom they come. Love is the bond of perfectness, and they 
that break the communion of saints, walk not charitably, and will be 
highly accountable to God for it. Those that make divisions, and 
those that follow dividing seducers, keep not close to the indisputa- 
ble precept of Christ. In his name, therefore, I beg of you to study 
and exercise universal love to every member of Christ, under what 
denomination soever you find them. 

" You may, perhaps, when you have read these common princi- 
ples and grounds which I have here collected for you, think I might 
have spared my pains, and sent you a two-penny catechism, which 
contains the substance of all this ; and it is true, here is nothing but 
what in substance you will find in every catechism. But though we 
ought to be taught these things the first that we are taught, yet they 
will hold us learning all our lives, and at every review we shall find 
our understanding grow in them. The want of having these grounds 
well laid, is the cause of so many wavering and falling into various 
sects. The Apostle reproaches the weakness of our sex more than 
the other, when, speaking of the prevalency of seducers, he says, 
'they lead about silly women, who are ever learning, and never able 
to come to the knowledge of the truth.' Therefore, every wise and 
holy woman ought to watch strictly over herself, that she become not 
one of these. But, as our sex, through ignorance and weakness of 
judgment, (which in the most knowing women is inferior to the mas- 
culine understanding of men,) are apt to entertain fancies, and per- 
tinacious in them, so we ought to watch over ourselves in such a day 
as this, and to embrace nothing rashly; but, as our own imbecility is 
made known to us, to take heed of presumption in ourselves, and to 
lean by faith on the strength of the Lord, and beg his protection, that 
we may not be led into error. I have had many distractions in spirit 
and interruptions in setting down these things, which I send you as a 
testimony of my best and most tender love to you, who cannot con- 
sider the age and temptations you are cast upon, without great 
thoughts of heart and earnest prayers for you many times when you 
sleep, and dream not of the spiritual loving care I have for you. 

" It is life, not notion, that God requires. If you live in your first 
light, God will enlarge it, and give you eternal light and life in our 
Lord Jesus, which is the most fervent prayer of your truly affection- 
ate mother." 

We shall give two extracts from the body of the work ; one on 
the love of God, the other on the fear of God. 

" As faith apprehends God to be the chiefest good, and not only so 
in himself, but our sovereign and only felicity, we cannot so believe, 
but our souls must love him above all, and long after him, and seek 
their supreme joy in the fruition of him ; which since we can no 
way arrive to but by Christ, hence he becomes the chiefest of ten 
thousand to our poor souls, exceeding precious, excellent, and ad- 



120 MEMOIRS OF 

mirable, far above all that the tongues of men and angels can ex- 
press him. 

"All men pretend a love to God, but there are few in whom it is 
sincere. Therefore, to discern our love, I shall only here insert a 
few notes of true love : 

"1. None truly love God, but those who love God only : they that 
let any creatures share their heart with God, deceive themselves, and 
give God none of it. 

"2. As God is to be loved only, so he is to be loved constantly; 
as well when he strikes as when he strokes ; as well when he takes 
as when he gives. Whom Christ loved, he loved to the end ; and 
they that love Christ, love him to the end. 

" 3. He that truly loves God, loves him for himself, more than for 
the good he expects from him. 

"4. He that loves God, loves all things that are his as his, and 
those most that have most impression of his holiness. 

" 5. He that loves God, loves all those that love him, and delights 
in their conversation, especially when they contend in the praises of 
God, and endeavor to magnify his name. 

" 6. The love of God makes true believers to love all his ordi- 
nances, to love his word, and the messengers of it. 

" 7. Further, the love of God makes a true believer to love all his 
dispensations, even his chastisements, so far as they are destructive to 
that sin which hath procured them. 

" 8. Again, the love of God makes believers love his interest, and 
be willing to part with all things that are dear to them for the ad- 
vancement of his glory. 

"9. The love of God makes true believers to hate all things that 
are contrary to his holiness, even in themselves and their most belov- 
ed relations. 

" 10. He that truly loves God, delights to meditate of him, and 
to discourse of him, and to hear the mention of his name, and is 
weary of that conversation where God is seldom, slightly, or never 
remembered. Do we not see that even in creature loves, whatever 
the heart is set on, men take all occasions to admire it, to consult how 
to attain the enjoyment of it, and delight to hear the object of their 
love praised and commended by others; love those that love it, and 
hate those that hate it, and use all endeavors to make others admire 
and love what they do ? And are we not ashamed to pretend to the 
love of God, when a little discourse of him is tedious to us ; when 
those that hate the mention of him, whose mouths are full of lies 
and vanity, whose hearts are full of the world, and whose conversa- 
tions savor nothing of God, are our beloved and delightful compan- 
ions ? This is a sore evil, and deserves a deep consideration and re- 
flection. Even the saints themselves, in their conferences of God 
at this day, are rather fortifying each other in particular opinions that 
they affect, than magnifying the name of God for his excellency and 



MRS. LUCY HUTCHINSON. 121 

his wonders manifested to the sons of men in his great works of 
creation, providence, redemption, sanctification. Wh odeclare to 
each other the goodness of God daily exercised to their souls, and 
call on their friends and neighbors to bless the Lord with them and 
for them ? Ah ! we live in such a world, that a true lover of God 
cannot do it, without casting pearls before swine that would turn and 
rend them ; and therefore are fain almost in all company to keep si- 
lence, or else have their hearts disturbed from the contemplation of 
the dear object of their souls, and led astray in the wilderness of the 
world." 

The other passage occurs in speaking of the slavish fear of God 
felt by the wicked. 

" This fear, bondage, and terror, believers and true worshippers 
of God are delivered from, through the redemption that is in Christ; 
but that gentle curb which the love of God puts, as a bridle, on our 
wild affections, is the delight of the saints, who count the service of 
God perfect freedom. These are affected with a reverential, filial 
awe in his presence. They dread his displeasure more than hell, 
and seek his face and favor more than heaven. Heaven would not 
be heaven to a true child of God, if God were not there in his grace 
and favor ; and were it possible there could be a hell where God's 
favor could be enjoyed, a true lover of God would choose it before 
paradise without him. But God cannot be separated from heaven : 
he is the heaven of heaven ; and where he is present in grace and 
favor, there is no hell in the greatest tortures imaginable. This 
made Lawrence's gridiron a bed of roses. This made the stones 
that were hurled at Stephen, only to beat away the gross air from 
about him, and bring the glorious heaven into his view, with the sight 
of which he was so ecstasied, he felt not the pain of the strokes, 
xhis reverential fear begets a holy care and watch in the soul, sus- 
pecting and crying out to God to keep his citadel there, at every 
small motion and appearance of the enemy, in any suggestion or any 
rising mist. 'Tis a holy frame of spirit that keeps us always in a 
reverent awe and dread of the majesty of God, and in a humble pos- 
ture of soul before him, yet cuts not off, but aggravates our delight 
in him, our joy and our singing before him : it is our wall of defense, 
and not our prison ; our badge of honor, and not our chain of bon- 
dage ; herein our love is exercised ; and this is one of God's sweet 
embracings, whereby he holds in our souls, and keeps them close to 
him. He that fears not God, loves him not; as 'tis to be suspected 
too many do, that unreverently approach his throne in all their filthy 
pollutions, and dread not to come so undecently into his presence." 

16 



122 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARKE, 

WIFE OF THE REV. SAMUEL CLARKE. 



Catharine Overton (for such was her former name) was born 
at Bedworth, in the county of Warwick, four miles from Coventry, 
Feburary 25, 1602, of religious parents. Her father was Mr. Val- 
entine Overton, Rector of Bedworth, where he lived a constant and 
diligent preacher of God's holy word, till he was almost 82 years of 
age. Her mother was Mrs. Isaverton, a most excellent woman, who 
took the whole burthen of family affairs, both within and without 
doors, from off her husband, that he might with more freedom at- 
tend his holy calling. 

It pleased God betimes to plant the seeds of grace in her heart, 
which first discovered themselves when she was about fifteen years 
old ; at which time God discovered to her the corruption of her na- 
ture, and some common miscarriages which are incident to youth. 
These made such a deep impression upon her tender years that 
whereas she was naturally of a cheerful, sanguine constitution, she 
now became serious, and somewhat melancholy. Hereupon Satan, 
that old serpent and enemy of our souls, assaulted her with many 
and various temptations, whereby he sought to quench these heaven- 
ly sparks, and to stifle this new creature in its first conception. But 
by frequent reading the sacred Scriptures, diligent attending to the % 
word preached, and secret prayer, it pleased the all-wise God to 
support and strengthen her against him and all his devices. Yet did 
these conflicts continue the longer, because she had none to whom 
she durst unbosom herself, and make her case known. 

When she was about seventeen years old, she was, by her parents, 
sent to Siwel, in Northamptonshire, to wait upon a young lady that 
was somewhat related to her. 

But this kind of life was so tedious and irksome to her, that at the 
end of six months she prevailed with her parents to send for her home 
again. Hear the narrative of it in her own words, as they were found 
written in her cabinet after her decease. "When," saith she, "I 
was but young, my father being at prayers in his family, I many times 
found such sweetness, and was so affected therewith, that 1 could 
not but wish that my heart might oftener be in such a frame. But 
childhood, and the vanities thereof, soon cooled these heavenly 
sparks. But my father caused me to write sermons, and to repeat 
the same ; as also to learn Mr. Perkins's catechism, which I often 
repeated to myself when I was alone, and therein especially I took 



MEMOIRS, StC. 123 

notice of those places wherein he had set down the signs and marks 
of a strong and weak faith, being convinced in my conscience that 
without faith I could not be saved, and that every faith would not serve 
turn to bring me to heaven. 

" Hereupon I fell to examination of myself, and though T could 
not find the marks of a strong, yet, through God's mercy, 1 found 
the marks of a true, though but weak faith, which was some comfort 
and support to me. And that God which began this good work in 
me, was pleased to quicken and stir me up to a diligent use of such 
means as himself had ordained and appointed for the increase thereof, 
as hearing the word preached, receiving the Sacrament of the Lord's 
Supper, and use of other private duties. 

But when I was about seventeen years old my parents sent me 
to wait upon a young gentlewoman in Northamptonshire, the only 
daughter of Sir W. W. ; at which time, being sent so far from my 
near and dear relations, and meeting with some other discouragements 
in the family, through want of the means of grace which I formerly 
enjoyed, I grew very melancholy. I began also to have great work- 
ings of conscience in me ; and Satan that deadly enemy to the 
health and welfare of our souls, who like a roaring lion walks about 
continually, seeking whom he may devour, took his advantage, 
through my ignorance of his devices, to raise up fears, doubts, and 
terrors of conscience in me, by reason of my manifold sins, and for 
walking so unworthy of God's mercies whilst I did enjoy them, and 
for being so unfruitful under the means of grace, and so unable to 
obey God, and to keep his commandments ; and by reason hereof 
I had no peace nor rest in my soul, night nor day, but was persuaded 
that all the threatenings contained in the book of God against wicked 
and ungodly men did belong unto me, and were my portion, as being 
one of them against whom they were denounced ; insomuch as when 
I took up the Bible to read therein, it was accompanied with much 
fear and trembling; yet being convinced that it was my duty frequent- 
ly to read God's word, I durst not omit or neglect it. 

" Thus I continued a great while, bearing the burden of grievous 
temptations and inward afflictions of conscience, yet durst I not open 
the wound, nor, reveal my condition to any, as thinking and judging 
my condition and case to be like no body's else ; but God, who is 
rich and infinite in mercy, and Jesus Christ, who bought his elect at 
so dear a rate, would not suffer any of his to be lost, and therefore 
he was graciously pleased to preserve, strengthen, and uphold me by 
his own power from sinking into hell through despair, and from run- 
ning out of my wits. Thus, by reason of my continual grief and an- 
guish of heart night and day, I was so weakened and changed within 
the compass of these six months, that when I came home my dear 
parents they scarce knew me." 

Some years after her return, she, for the most part, continued in 
her father's family, where by a diligent and conscientious use of the 



124 MEMOIRS OF 

means, both public and private, she did thrive and grow in grace and 
in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, as she in- 
creased and grew in days and years ; and therewith also learned and 
exercised all parts of housewifery, which might fit her for government 
of a family, when God should call her thereto. 

February 2, 1625, which was the same day on which King Charles 
the First was crowned, she was, with the consent of parents on both 
sides, married to Mr. S. Clarke, who at that time was minister at 
Shotwick, four miles beyond West Chester, who looked upon this 
match as the greatest outward temporal blessing that ever God be- 
stowed upon him ; whereby he could experimentally say, " that a 
prudent wife is the gift of God," and that in the possession of her he 
enjoyed more mercies than he could well enumerate. But we must 
descend to particulars, and to take notice of some of those virtues and 
graces wherewith God had beautified and adorned her soul. 

Her piety was signal and exemplary : from her first conversion to 
the hour of her death, her life was not stained with any scandalous 
sin, which might be a blemish either to her person, profession, or re- 
lations. She was a constant and diligent attendant upon the public 
ministry of God's holy word ; and when she lived where she had the 
opportunity of hearing lectures in the week day, she made choice 
to attend upon those who were most plain, practical, and powerful 
preachers : from whose sermons, and God's blessing upon them, she 
always sucked some spiritual nourishment, and came home refreshed ; 
and when days of humiliation or thanksgiving came, she never failed 
to make one among God's people in the celebration of them. 

The Lord's-days she carefully sanctified, both in public and in pri- 
vate, rising earlier upon them than upon others, especially when she 
had many young children about her, that so she might have oppor- 
tunity as well for secret as for family duties, before she was called 
away to the public. She was, like David's door-keeper, one of the 
first in and last out of God's house. Her constant gesture at pray- 
er was kneeling, thinking that she could not be too humble before 
God. Her usual manner was to write sermons, to prevent drowsi- 
ness and distractions, and to help memory ; whereof she hath left 
many volumes ; and her practice was to make good use of them, by 
frequent reading and meditating upon them ; and if at any time she 
was cast into such places and company as were a hindrance to her 
in the strict sanctification of this holy day, it was a grief and burden 
to her. 

There was no day that passed over her head, except sickness or 
some other unavoidable necessity prevented, wherein she did not 
read some portions of the Sacred Scriptures, both in the Old and 
New Testament, and of the Psalms ; and in reading, she took spe- 
cial notice of such passages as most concerned herself: she was fre- 
quent and constant in secret prayer and meditation : she also read 
much in other good books, especially in the works of those eminent 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARKE. 125 

and excellent divines, Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Reyner : and in read- 
ing of them, she used to transcribe such passages as most warmed 
her heart. 

She never neglected any opportunity of receiving the Sacrament 
of the Lord's Supper, and before her coming to it was very strict 
and serious in the duty of self-examination; and for her furtherance 
therein, at. such times, she read some of those books that treated up- 
on that subject. a The fruits of her holiness manifested themselves 
in the exercise of those graces which God required of her : she was 
not a wordy, but a real Christian ; a true Israelite, in whom was no 
guile. Her endeavor was to yield universal, constant, cheerful, and 
sincere obedience to all God's commandments, and wherein she fail- 
ed and came short it was her grief and burden. Her meditations 
upon what she heard and read were frequent ; and her heart having 
" indited a good matter, her tongue was as the pen of a ready wri- 
ter," taking opportunities to speak to the edification of those with 
whom she conversed. 

She filled every relation with the exercise of such graces and du- 
ties as were suitable thereto, knowing that where relative duties are 
neglected, and not made conscience of, there also our pretended re- 
ligion is in vain. As a wife, she was singular and very exemplary 
in that reverence and obedience which she yielded to her husband, 
both in words and deeds. She never rose from the table, even when 
they were alone, but she made a courtesy ; she never drank to him 
without bowing ; his word was a law to her ; she often denied her- 
self, to gratify him ; and when in her sickness and weakness he men- 
tioned her case in particular to God in his prayers, the duty being en- 
ded, she would make him a courtesy, and thank him. Tn case of 
his absence she would pray with her family morning and evening, 
the like she would do in his presence, in case of his sickness and in- 
ability to perform the duty himself. Her modesty and chastity were 
rare and remarkable; but fitter to be conceived by those who know 
what belongs to them, than to be expressed in words ; for there is a 
conjugal as well as a virginal chastity. 

In case of her husband's sickness, she was a tender and diligent 
nurse about him, skilful and careful in making him broths and what 
else was needful for him. If at any time she saw him in passion, 
with sweet and gentle words she would mollify and moderate it. 
She was often a spur, but never a bridle to him in those things which 
were good. She was always well pleased with such habitations, as in 
their many removes, he provided for her ; and with such apparel 
and diet as his means, which was sometimes short would allow. She 
never murmured at any of those dispensations which God's all wise 
Providence carved out to them. 

As a mother to her children, whereof God gave her nine, four 
sons and five daughters, she nourished them all with her own breasts; 
and knew how to order them both in health and sickness. She lov- 



126 



MEMOIRS OF 



ed them dearly without fondness ; was careful to give them nurture 
as well as nourishment, not sparing the rod when there was just oc- 
casion ; and as soon as they were capable, she was vigilant and dili- 
gent to season their tender years with grace and virtue, by instilling 
into them the first grounds and principles of religion : and as they 
grew up, she did more freely discover her tender affection to them, 
by instruction, advice and good counsel, as there was occasion ; and 
when they were disposed of abroad, by her gracious letters, and 
hearty instructions at their meetings, she labored to build them up in 
grace and godliness ; and God was pleased to let her see to her 
great joy and comfort, the fruit of her prayers, and pains in keeping 
them from scandalous courses, and in working grace in most of their 
hearts. When they were married and had children, she was fre- 
quently making one thing or other for them. 

As a mistress she was careful, as far as she could, to bring such as 
were religious, at least seemingly, into her family ; and having occa- 
sion to be much in their company, she would take all occasions and 
opportunities to manifest her love and care of their souls, by fre- 
quently dropping in good counsel and wholesome instructions, by 
catechising, inquiring what they remembered of the sermons they 
heard, reading her notes to them, encouraging them in what was 
good, and with the spirit of meekness blaming them for what was 
evil : and, for housewifery and household affairs, she instructed their 
ignorance, commended and encouraged what they did well ; and 
herself being of an active disposition, and having her hand in most 
businesses, set them a pattern and gave them an example how to or- 
der the same. She was careful, so far as possibly she could, to pre- 
vent all spoil, and to see that they did not eat the bread of idleness. 

Towards her friends, and her own and her husband's relations, 
she was courteous and amiable in her deportment, free and hearty in 
their entertainment. She would have plenty without want, and com- 
petency without superfluity ; and all so neat and well ordered, that 
none who came to her table, wherof some were persons of honor 
and quality, but commended her cookery, and were well pleased 
with their entertainment. 

In her household furniture she loved not to want nor desired more 
than was needful. It was, though not costly, yet cleanly, and she 
was frequent in repairing and mending decays and what was amiss. 
For her apparel she was never willing to have that which was costly 
for the matter, or showy for the manner ; rather under than above 
her rank. For the fashion of it, it was grave and exemplary, with- 
out levity. She followed Peter's directions which he gave to Chris- 
tian women in his time, 1 Peter, iii. 3, &c. " whose adorning, let it 
not be that outward adorning of plaiting the hair, and of wearing of 
gold, or of putting on of apparel ; but let it be the hidden man of the 
heart, in that which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek 
and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. For 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARKE. 127 

after this manner, in old time, the holy women who trusted in God 
adorned themselves, being in subjection unto their own husbands." 

She was very charitable to the poor wherever she lived, accor- 
ding to that estate wherewith God had intrusted her. She was rea- 
dy to relieve such as were objects of charity with meat or drink, and 
to lend them money, and to minister some physical things, whereof 
her closet was never empty, according as their necessities required. 
She had a very melting heart, and truly sympathized with the church 
and people of God, whether at home or abroad, in all their suffer- 
ings and rejoiced in their prosperity. 

Her humility was not inferior to her other graces. She had al- 
ways a very low esteem of herself, and was ready to prefer others 
before herself, and would not take it ill when her inferiors were set 
above her. She well remembered the Apostle Peter's charge : "All 
of you be subject to one another, and be clothed with humility. For 
God resisteth the proud, and giveth grace to the humble." And 
that of St. Paul, Rom. xii. 10. "In honor prefer one another." 

Her love to God, to his ordinances, and to his children was hearty 
and without dissimulation. " She abhorred that which was evil, and 
clave to that which was good." She was of so sweet and meek a 
disposition, that she never used to speak evil of any, but was ever 
prone to forgive and forget wrongs. 

She was very prudent in managing her household affairs to the 
best advantage. ' She would have divers dishes of meat with little 
cost, yet so dressed and ordered as made them grateful and pleasing 
to all. She was careful to see that nothing was lost or spoiled. By 
her wise and frugal managing her household, though her husband had 
never much coming in, yet at the year's end he could always save 
something : so that her price to him was far above rubies. His heart 
trusted in her : for she did him good, and not evil, all the days of her 
life." Prov. xxxi. 10, 11, 12. 

In her younger days she was healthful, of a cheerful and active 
spirit, and abhorring idleness ; she would have her hand in every 
business. In her old age, though she was infirm, yet whilst she 
could stand she would be about one kind of work or other. She 
bore her weakness and afflictions with much patience and holy sub- 
mission to the will and good pleasure of God : she was so uniform in 
the frame of her spirit, and so maintained her peace with God through 
her holy and humble walking, that when death, many times in her 
sickness, threatened to seize upon her, she feared it not, as knowing 
that it would be gain and advantage to her. Concerning which, 
hear what she herself left in writing, which was found after her de- 
cease. 

" In my younger days my spiritual afflictions and inward troubles 
continued long before I could attain to any assurance of my salva- 
tion ; but of late years it hath pleased God, of his infinite mercy and 



128 MEMOIRS OF 

free grace, to give me more assurance of his unchangeable love 
through faith in his rich and free promises of life and salvation, through 
Jesus Christ, who is precious to my soul, and who is the author and 
finisher of my faith, God blessed for evermore : to whom be praise 
and glory, world without end. Amen." 

In her converse with her friends " she opened her mouth with wis- 
dom, and in her tongue was the law of kindness," Prov. xxxi. 26, 
which made her company grateful to all, and burdensome or under- 
valued by none. Divers years before her death, upon catching cold, 
she had many fits of sickness and weakness, and some of them 
were so violent as brought her near unto death ; yet the Lord had 
mercy upon her husband and family, in raising her up again almost 
beyond hope and expectation : and she was always a gainer by her 
afflictions, God making good that promise to her, Rom. viii. 28. " All 
things shall work together for good to them that love God, to them 
who are called according to his purpose :" for after those fits she 
walked more humbly, holily, fruitfully and faithfully, both in her gen- 
eral and particular calling, as one that waited daily for the appearing 
of her Lord and Master. The winter before her death she enjoyed 
better health than she had done for some years before. 

May 25, 1675, some friends came from London to dine with her; 
and that morning according to her usual custom in such cases, she 
was careful and busy in providing for their kind entertainment : but it 
pleased God, whilst they were at dinner, to strike her with a kind of 
shivering, which made her look paler than ordinary ; and after din- 
ner her distemper continued, so that she was soon confined to her 
chamber, and not long after, for the most part to her bed. But 
herein God shewed her great mercy, and had respect to her weak- 
ness, in that during all the time of her languishing she was free from 
sickness and pain, only sometimes she was troubled with some stitch- 
es, which yet were tolerable, not violent ; she was also troubled with 
some vapors, which made her breath very short ; yet had she a pretty 
good appetite, and relished her food well till about two days before 
her death ; but then though she did eat yet she found little taste in 
her meat. Her sleep was pretty good, and always very quiet; she 
was never ill after food or sleep : only two days before her departure 
she slept little, by reason of the continual rattling of phlegm in her 
throat, when she wanted strength to expectorate. 

As to the state of her soul, during all the time of her sickness she 
enjoyed constant peace and serenity, and had, through God's mercy, 
much joy and peace by believing ; Satan, that roaring lion, who uses 
to be most strong when we are most weak, being so chained up by 
God that he had no power to molest her. She often cried out, 
" Hold out, faith and patience." She told her nearest relation, 
when she saw him mourning over her, that she was going to be joined 
to a better husband. 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARKE. 129 

Her youngest son taking his leave of her (he day before her death, 
she gave him much heavenly counsel for the good of his soul, and 
blessed him, and all his, as she did the rest of her children and 
grand-children. She earnestly desired to be dissolved, and breathed 
after a fuller enjoyment of Jesus Christ, which she accounted best of 
all. She would sometimes say, " that it was a hard thing to die ; " 
and " this is a hard work." Her understanding, memory, and speech 
continued till within two minutes of death ; and a little before, her 
daughter speaking to her of Jesus Christ, she replied, " My God 
and my Lord;" and so, June 21, 1675, about five o'clock in the 
morning, she fell asleep, exchanging this life for a better, without any 
alteration in her countenance, but only that her color was gone. She 
closed up her eyes herself, as who should say, "It is but winking, 
and I shall be in heaven." She " changed her place, but not her 
company." She was seventy-three years old and about four months, 
and had been married almost fifty years. 

Thus did this holy woman wear out, not rust out : she served God 
in her generation, and then retired into that place where is health 
without sickness; day without night; plenty without famine ; riches 
without poverty ; mirth without mourning ; singing without sighing ; 
life without death; and these, with infinitely more, to all eternity. 
There is unspotted chastity; unstained honor ; unparalleled beauty ; 
there is the tree of life in the midst of this paradise : there is the 
river that waters the garden : there is the vine flourishing, and the 
pomegranate budding : there is the banqueting-house, where are all 
those delicacies and rarities wherewith God himself is delighted. 
There shall the saints be adorned as a bride, with rare pearls, and 
sparkling diamonds of glory, a glory fitter to be believed than possi- 
ble to be discoursed : " an exceeding, excessive, eternal weight of 
glory," 2 Cor. iv. 17. Even such a weight, as if the body were not 
upheld by the power of God, it were impossible but that it should 
faint under it, as an eminent divine speaketh. 

After Mrs. Clarke's decease, there was found in her cabinet a pa- 
per which, by frequent using, was almost worn out. It contained a 
collection of these several texts of Scripture, which she had recourse 
to in times of temptation or desertion. 

" Who is among you that feareth the Lord ; that obeyeth the 
voice of his servant; that walketh in darkness and hath no light: let 
him trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." Isa. 1, 
10. 

" For the name of the Lord is a strong tower : the righteous run 
unto it, and are safe." Prov. xviii. 10. 

"Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on 
thee, because he trusteth in thee." Isa. xxvi. 3. 

" Blessed is the man that maketh the Lord his trust." Psal. xl. 4. 

"Blessed is the man to whom the Lord imputeth not sin." Psal. 
xxxii. 2. 

17 



130 



MEMOIRS OF 



Though our hearts may fail us, and our flesh may fail us, yet 
God will never fail us. Psal. lxxiii. 26. "For he hath said, I will 
never leave thee nor forsake thee." Heb. xiii. 5. 

And again : " I will be a father unto you, and ye shall be my sons 
and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." 2 Cor. vi. 18. 

"I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own 
sake, and will not remember thy sins." Isa. xliv. 25. 

" My grace is sufficient for thee : for my strength is made perfect 
in weakness." 2 Cor. xii. 9. 

" By grace you are saved through faith, and that not of your- 
selves." Eph. ii. 8. 

" I give unto them eternal life, and they shall not perish, neither 
shall any man pluck them out of my hand." Job, x. 28. 

" Who are kept by the power of God, through faith unto salva- 
tion." 1 Peter, i. 5. 

" The foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal : the 
Lord knoweth who are his." 2 Tim. ii. 19. 

" There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in 
Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh but after the spirit." Rom. 
viii. 1. 

" Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that 
believeth." Rom. iv. 10. 

" It is God that justifieth ; who is he that condemneth ?" Rom. 
viii. 33, 34. 

" The promise is to you, and to your children, and to all that are 
afar off; even as many as the Lord our God shall call." Acts, 
ii. 39. 

" The gifts and calling of God are without repentance." Rom. 
xi. 29. 

These texts of Scripture having been as so many cordials to her 
in times rf temptation, it is hoped that they may prove so to others, 
and tl ore for their sakes they are here set down. And hereby 
it appears that she was not without some shakings ; but, through 
God's mercy, they were such as made her strike root the faster : and 
by her prudent and seasonable holding forth the shield of faith, and 
the sword of the Spirit, she became more than a conqueror through 
him that had loved her. 

In another little book, which was found after her death, she gives 
this account of herself, and of God's gracious dealing with her. 

From the beginning of God's shewing me mercy in my conversion, 
I here set down God's gracious dealings with me, not for mine own 
praise, but for the glory of God, and to stir up my heart to true 
thankfulness for such invaluable mercies. And then she set down 
the time, manner, and means of her conversion, and afterwards pro- 
- %r thus : — 

. hat have been my experiences of God's gracious dealings 
. me at several times, under afflictions ?" 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARKE. 131 

" As when personal afflictions have lain upon me, in regard of bo- 
dily sickness or spiritual distempers. Or, family afflictions, when 
God hath taken away my dear children. Or, when I have been 
under fears that God would take away my dear husband, by some 
dangerous sickness which he lay under. Or when I have been un- 
der great fears, in the time of our civil wars. Or, when I have been 
under spiritual desertion, by God's hiding his face and favor from me. 
Or, by reason of weakness and wants in grace. Or, by reason of 
strong and prevailing corruptions. Or, by reason of Satan's tempta- 
tions." In all which cases she left a memorial of God's gracious 
dispensations towards her. I shall set down only a few of them. 

" It pleased God for many years to keep me for the most part in 
a sad and disconsolate estate and condition, not clearly evidencing 
the certain assurance of his love to my soul ; so that many times I 
questioned whether I was a child of God or no ; whether I had part 
in Jesus Christ or no ; whether 1 should ever attain to life and salva- 
tion or no : and this made me walk with a drooping and disconso- 
late spirit, so that I could take no true comfort in any thing. But 
though ' heaviness endured for a night, yet joy came in the morn- 
ing,' when the Lord caused the light of his countenance to shine 
upon me, which was better than life. 

" It pleased God upon the death of my youngest child that it lay 
very heavy upon my spirit, insomuch that 1 was brought oft upon my 
knees to beg support from God, and to crave his grace and assist- 
ance that I might not break out to speak or act any thing whereby 
God's name might be dishonored, or the gospel discredited ; and 
that he would be pleased to make up this outward loss with some 
more durable and spiritual comforts. And I found a seasonable, 
gracious, and speedy answer to these my requests : for though I lay 
long under the burden of that loss, yet in this time did the Lord 
sweetly manifest his special love to my soul, assuring me that he was 
my gracious and reconciled Father in Christ, whereby my love to 
him was much increased, and even inflamed ; so that, by his grace, 
it wrought in me more diligence and carefulness to maintain and pre- 
serve these evidences of his love, and to yield a holy submission unto 
his will, as well in suffering as in doing; as also by avoiding whatso- 
ever might provoke him to withdraw the evidences of his love from 
me, without the sense whereof I could take little or no comfort in 
any thing. 

" And furthermore I bless God for it, and speak it to the praise 
and glory of his rich and free grace, my prayers and earnest desires 
have been answered by God's giving me comfortable assurance 
both from the testimony of his holy word and the witness of his 
blessed Spirit, of my eternal and everlasting salvation, in and by Je- 
sus Christ. Yet have I not been without fears and doubtings many 
times, through want of looking over my evidences, or by neglecting 
to keep a narrow watch over my heart; or from weakness of my 



132 MEMOIRS OF 

faith ; and all through my own fault and negligence. The Lord par- 
don it, and make me more circumspect for the time to come." 

By all these I have gained this experience : 

" First: That God is true and faithful in making good all his pro- 
mises seasonably unto us ; as, that all things shall work together for 
our good : and that God will never fail us nor forsake us, he. 

" Secondly : That it is not in vain to wait upon God, and to seek 
unto him in our straits, who is more ready to hear than we are to ask. 

" Thirdly : That I desire to see, yea, and the Lord hath shewed 
me the vanity and uncertainty of the most satisfying comforts that 
this world can afford, and what an emptiness there is in them, that 
so I may, and I desire so to do, keep weaned affections towards 
them, and to sit loose from them, that I may be ready to part with 
them when God calls them from me, or me from them." 

Again, in regard of bodily weakness and sickness, my experiences 
have been these : 

" First : That as a broken shoulder can bear no burden, so the 
least distemper, when the heart is not in an holy frame and temper, 
is a burden insupportable. If God hides his face from us, and with- 
draws the evidences of his love, and denies to assist us by his 
strength, we can neither do nor suffer any thing : and on the con- 
trary I found, by experience, that I could with much cheerfulness, 
holy submission and willingness, bear great distempers, when I en- 
joyed the favor of God in them ; so that then I could readily say, 
good is the work of the Lord as well as his word. And, ' I will 
bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against him.' 
Micha. vii. 9. And, * though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' 
Job, xiii. 15. 

" Secondly, I found by experience also, that by my pains and sick- 
ness I was the better able to sympathize with, and to pity and pray 
for others, in the like case. 

" Thirdly, hereby I learned the more to prize health ; and that, 
because in health we have liberty and opportunity to enjoy the pub- 
lic ordinances with others of God's people, whereby the graces of 
God's people are quickened, strengthened, and increased in us; 
which otherwise, by reason of our corrupt natures, are apt to grow 
cold and languish, as will our bodies when they want food. Because 
in health we enjoy the benefit and comfort of sweet and quiet sleep, 
which much refreshes and cheers, and which commonly we want in 
sickness. Because in health we find sweet satisfying comfort in the 
use of God's good creatures; whereas in sickness the daintiest food 
is loathsome and troublesome. The consideration of these things 
made me the more to prize health ; to be very thankful for it, and 
the more careful to employ and improve health and strength to God's 
glory, and the furtherance of mine own salvation." 

In regard of public dangers I have had a great deal of experience 
of God's goodness towards me and mine, several ways, and at several 
times. For, 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARKE. 133 

" First, When in the beginning of our civil wars and distractions I 
was sometimes overwhelmed with base and distrustful fears, occa- 
sioned by my not acting faith upon the promises, and not remember- 
ing my former experiences, nor considering God's love, power, and 
fidelity to his children, in performing his so many gracious promises, 
made unto them in all estates and conditions, and to me among the 
rest : hereupon I resolved, by God's grace and assistance, not to 
give way to this distrust and diffidence, praying God to assist me 
therein, and found more courage than formerly, so far as I know 
mine own heart ; though truly the heart is very deceitful, as I have 
found by sad experience. The Lord teach and enable me to rely 
upon him with more courage and constancy, and more to live by faith 
upon his promises than formerly I have done. 

" Indeed I have been apt to fall into new fears upon approaching 
dangers ; yet upon successes and glorious deliverances, I have oft 
resolved never to distrust God again, and yet my naughty heart hath 
deceived me and made me ready to faint. But this I found by ex- 
perience, to the praise of my God's free grace, that as troubles have 
abounded, my consolations have much more abounded : for God 
brought seasonably into my mind many precious promises, which 
were as so many sweet cordials, which much supported and comfort- 
ed my heart, and upheld my spirit : when also new storms have aris- 
en and unexpected deliverances have followed, I have resolved, and 
do by God's grace, not to distrust him any more. Yea, though more 
and greater dangers shall arise, yet will I trust in and stay myself up- 
on him, though, as Job said, ' he should slay me.' The good Lord 
establish my heart in this good and holy resolution, who is able to 
keep us to the end, and hath promised that he ' will preserve us by 
his power, through faith, to the salvation of our souls.' " 

In regard to Satan's temptations, especially concerning my coming 
to the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, my experiences have been 
these : 

" Finding often that I was very unable to fit and prepare myself 
for a comfortable approach to that sacred ordinance, I used to desire 
the prayers of the congregation unto God in my behalf, and I used 
the best endeavors 1 could in private, as God enabled me, though I 
came far short of what was required, and of what I desired ; so that 
I did trust and hope, through God's mercy, to find a comfortable day 
of it, and to have it a sealing ordinance to my soul. But, on the 
contrary, I found much deadness and little spiritual taste, relish, and 
comfort in the use of it ; so that my spirit was oft much troubled and 
cast down in me, fearing lest I had some secret sin undiscovered and 
unrepented of, which caused the Lord thus to hide his face from me. 

" But then my gracious God brought this into my mind, that the 
Lord doth sometimes afflict us for the exercise and improvement of 
our graces, as well as to humble us for our sins. I also considered, 
that as the Lord doth tender great mercies to us in this Sacrament 



134 MEMOIRS OF 

renewing his covenant of grace, and sealing unto us the pardon of 
our sins in the blood of Christ ; so he gives us leave to engage our- 
selves, by renewing our covenant with him, to believe in him, and to 
trust upon Christ for life and salvation : and it pleased God to give 
me faith to apply this in particular to my own soul ; and a while aft- 
er to shew me and to make good to my soul that precious and com- 
fortable promise, that though ' he hide his face from us for a little 
moment, yet with mercy and loving kindness he will return to us 
again.' This was a wonderful comfort and support to my dejected 
heart : blessed be the Lord for ever, I desire to treasure up these 
experiences, that for the future I may resolve in the like case to put 
my whole trust and confidence in him, that so Satan may not entrap 
me in his snares through unbelief, but that I may resist ' him stead- 
fast in the faith :' for I am not altogether ignorant of his devices. 
God's promise is, that ' in all these things we shall be more than con- 
querors, through him that hath loved us ; and hath said, that ' this is 
the victory which overcometh the world, even our faith.' " 1 John, 
v. 4. 

In the year 1669, there came to us the sad news of the death of 
my second son, Mr. John Clarke, a godly and faithful minister, rec- 
tor of Cotgrave, in Nottinghamshire, who died the 18th of September. 

Thus as the waves of the sea follow one another, so God is pleas- 
ed to exercise his children with one affliction after another. He sees 
that whilst we carry about with us this body of sin, we have need of 
manifold trials and temptations, as saith the Apostle. 1 Pet. i. 6, 
" Now for a season ye are in heaviness, if need be, through manifold 
temptations;" to keep us under, and to make us the better to remem- 
ber ourselves. 

Indeed it hath been the Lord's course and dealing with me ever 
since he stopped me in the way as I was posting to hell, to raise up 
one affliction or other, either inward or outward, either from Satan, 
the world, or from mine own corrupt heart and nature, not having 
grace and wisdom to behave and carry myself as I ought under his 
various dispensations and providences, as appeared at this time by 
his laying so great and grievous an affliction upon me, in taking away 
so dear a son, from whom I had much soul-comfort, and ardent af- 
fections, which he manifested by his fervent prayers for me, and by 
his spiritual letters and writings to me, wherein he applied himself 
suitably to my comfort in those inward troubles of heart and spirit 
which lay upon me. This caused my grief and sorrows to take the 
greater hold of me, upon the loss of one who was so useful to me : 
yet hereby I do not derogate from my elder son, from whom I have 
the like help, and comfort. 

Upon this sad occasion my grief grew so great that I took no 
pleasure of any thing in the world : but was so overwhelmed with 
melancholy, and my natural strength was so abated, that little food 
served my turn, and I judged that I could not live long in such a 
condition. 



MRS. CATHARINE CLARK. 135 

Here 1 began to examine my heart why it should be so with me, 
and whether carnal and immoderate affections were not the great 
cause of my trouble, which I much feared ; and having used many ar- 
guments, and laid down many reasons to myself to quiet and moderate 
my passions, and yet nothing prevailed to quiet and calm my heart, 
and to bow me to the obedience of his revealed will : and withal, con- 
sidering that it was God only that could quiet the heart, and set our 
unruly and carnal affections into an holy frame and order, and that he 
was a "present help in times of trouble," I often and earnestly sought 
unto the Lord with many prayers and tears, beseeching him to quiet 
my heart, and to overpower and tame my unruly affections, so as to 
be willing to submit unto him, and to bear his afflicting hand patiently 
and fruitfully, and to be ready and willing to submit, either in doing 
or suffering, to whatsoever he pleased to impose upon me, and to be 
ready to part with the best outward comfort I enjoyed, whensoever he 
should please to call for the same. 

And it pleased God seasonably to hear my prayer, to regard my 
tears, and to grant my requests, by calming and quieting my heart 
and spirit, and by giving me much more contentedness to submit to 
his holy will and good pleasure, who is a "God of judgment," and 
knows the fittest times and seasons to come in with refreshing com- 
forts, and who "waits to be gracious" unto those that trust in him. 
Yet surely I was not without many temptations in this hour of dark- 
ness, from that subtle adversary, who always stands at watch, to insin- 
uate and frame his temptations answerable to our conditions, and like 
a "roaring lion walks about continually, seeking to devour" poor, yet 
precious souls. Then I "called upon the Lord in my distress, and 
he answered me and delivered me." 

"Bless the Lord, O my soul ! and all that is within me praise his 
holy name!" For he hath remembered me in my low and troubled 
estate, because "his mercy endureth forever." 

Having thus had new experience of God's readiness to hear and 
help when I called upon him ; and having found that it is not in vain 
"to seek to and to depend upon God in all" our straits, I could not but 
record these things, that so "every one that is godly may seek unto 
him in a time wherein he maybe found," who is a "present help" in 
times of trouble, and who doth for us "abundantly above what we 
can ask or think." 

The Lord knows that I write these things for no other end, but that 
God may have the glory, and that others, especially my relations, may 
be encouraged to seek God in their straits, and to trust in him at all 
times. Amen. 

After her decease there was also found in her cabinet a paper with 
this superscription : — My will and desire is, with the leave of my 
husband, to bestow upon my children these things as tokens of my 
motherly affections, and that I may be remembered by them. She 
began with her husband ; and what she gave* to him and all the rest, 



136 MEMOIRS, &£C. 

were all wrapped up in several papers, and each name endorsed on 
the outside to whom it did belong. And then concludes all thus : — 
"But above all, my prayers unto God are, that he would especially 
bestow upon you all needful saving graces, whereby you may be ena- 
bled to glorify his great name in those several places and callings 
wherein he hath set you. Amen, amen." 

She left also legacies to some poor neighbors, as also ten shillings 
to Mr. W. the minister of the place, to buy him a mourning ring, 
concluding thus : 

"If God shall please to bring me to my grave in peace, let this be 
the text at my funeral, Eph. ii. 8. ' for by grace ye are saved, through 
faith. ' This Scripture I was oft put upon to have recourse to in 
times of temptations and desertion." 

Thus she lived, adorning in all things the doctrine of the Savior ; 
and died in the joyful expectation of that rest which remaineth for 
rhe people of God. 



137 



THE COUNTESS OF CARBERY 



The following character is extracted from a sermon preached at 
the funeral of the Countess of Carbery, (the lady of Richard, Earl 
of Carbery, who died in the prime of life, in the year 1650,) by 
the pious, learned, and eloquent Dr. Jeremy Taylor, and published 
in a collection of his discourses in folio. 

I have now done with my text but am yet to make you another 
sermon. I have told you the necessity and the state of death ; it may 
be too largely for such a sad story ; I shall, therefore, now with a 
better compendium teach you how to live, by telling you a plain nar- 
rative of a life which if you imitate and write after the copy, it will 
make, that death shall not be an evil, but a thing to be desired, and to 
be reckoned amongst the purchases and advantages of your fortune. 
When Martha and Mary w 7 ent to weep over the grave of their broth- 
er, Christ met them there, and preached a funeral sermon ; discours- 
ing of the resurrection, and applying to the purposes of faith, and con- 
fession of Christ, and glorification of God : we have no other, we can 
have no better precedent to follow ; and now that we are come to 
w r eep over the grave of our dear sister, this rare personage, we can- 
not choose but have many virtues to learn, many to imitate, and some 
to exercise. 

I choose not to declare her extraction and genealogy ; it was, in- 
deed, fair and honorable ; but having the blessing to be descended 
from worthy and honored ancestors, and herself to be adopted and 
ingrafted into a more noble family, yet she felt such outward appen- 
dages to be none of hers, because not of her choice, but the pur- 
chase of the virtues of others, which although they did engage her to 
do noble things, yet they would upbraid all degenerate and less honor- 
able lives than were those, which began and increased the honor of 
the families. Accordingly, myself have been a witness of it, how 
this excellent lady would, by an act of humility and Christian abstrac- 
tion, strip herself of all that fair appendage of exterior honor which 
decked her person and her fortune ; arid desired to be owned by 
nothing but what was her own, that she might only be esteemed hon- 
orable according to that which is the honor of a Christian and a wise 
person. 

She had a strict and severe education, and it was one of God's gra- 
ces and favors to her. For being the heiress of a great fortune, and 
living amongst the throng of persons in the sight of vanities and empty 
temptations, that is, in that part of the kingdom where greatness is too 
often expressed in great follies and great vices, God had provided a 

18 



138 CHARACTER OF 

severe education to chastise the forwardness of a young spirit and a 
fair fortune ; and intending to secure this soul to himself, would not 
suffer the follies of the world to seize upon her by way of too near a 
trial, or busy temptation. 

She was married young ; in passing through which line of prov- 
idence she had the art to secure her eternal interest, by turning 
her condition into duty, and expressing her duty in the greatest emi- 
nency of a virtuous, prudent, and rare affection ; which I note in her 
as that which I would have exemplar to all ladies and to all wo- 
men : and although this was a great enamel to the beauty of her 
soul, yet it might in some degrees be also a reward to the virtue of 
her lord ; for she would often discourse it to them that conversed with 
her, that he would improve that interest which he had in her affec- 
tion to the advantages of God and of religion ; and she would de- 
light to say, that he called her to her devotions, he encouraged her 
good inclinations, he directed her piety, he invited her with good 
books ; and then she loved religion, which she saw was not only 
pleasing to God, and an act or state of duty, but pleasing to her lord, 
and an act also of affection and conjugal obedience. 

As she was a rare wife, so she was an excellent mother; for in 
so tender a constitution of spirit as hers was, and in so great a kind- 
ness towards her children, there hath seldom been seen a stricter and 
more curious care of their persons, their deportment, their nature, 
their disposition, their learning, and their customs ; and if ever kind- 
ness and care did contest, and make parties in her, yet her care and 
her severity were ever victorious ; and she knew not how to do an 
ill turn to their severer part, by her more tender and forward kind- 
ness. 

But if we examine how she demeaned herself towards God, there 
also you will find her not of a common, but of an exemplary piety. 
She was a great reader of Scripture, confining herself to great por- 
tions every day ; which she read, not to the purposes of vanity and im- 
pertinent curiosity, not to seem knowing or to become talking, not to 
expound and rule, but to teach her all her duty, to instruct her in the 
knowledge and love of God and of her neighbors, to make her more 
humble, and to teach her to despise the world and all its gilded van- 
ities ; and that she might entertain passions wholly in design and or- 
der to heaven. I have seen a female religion that wholly dwelt upon 
the face and tongue ; that like a wanton and undressed tree spends 
all its juice in suckers and irregular branches, in leaves and gum; 
and after all such goodly outsides, you shall never eat of the fruit, or 
be delighted with the beauties or the perfumes of a hopeful blossom. 
But the religion of this excellent lady was of another constitution ; it 
took root downward in humility, and brought forth fruit upward in 
the substantial graces of a Christian, in charity and justice, in chastity 
and modesty, in fair friendships and sweetness of society. She had 
not very much of the forms and outsides of godliness, but she was 



LADY CARBERY. 139 

singularly careful for the power of it, for the moral, essential, and 
useful parts; such as would make her be, not seem to be, religious. 

She was a very constant person at her prayers, and spent all her 
time, which nature did permit to her choice, in her devotions, and 
reading and meditating, and the necessary offices of household gov- 
ernment, every one of which is an action of religion, some by nature, 
some by adoption. To these also God gave her a very great love to 
hear the word of God preached ; in which, because 1 had sometimes 
the honor to minister to her, I can give this certain testimony, that 
she was a diligent, watchful, and attentive hearer, and to this had so ex- 
cellent a judgment, that if ever I saw a woman whose judgment was to 
be revered, it was hers alone. But her appetite was not soon satisfi- 
ed with what was useful to her soul ; she was also a constant reader 
of sermons, and seldom missed to read one every day ; and that she 
might be full of instruction and holy principles, she had lately design- 
ed to have a large book, in which she purposed to have a stock of re- 
ligion transcribed in such assistances as she would choose, that she 
might be readily furnished and instructed to every good work. But 
God prevented that, and hath filled her desires not out of cisterns and 
little aqueducts, but hath carried her to to the fountain, where "she 
drinks of the pleasures of the river," and is full of God. 

She always lived a life of much innocence, free from the violences 
of great sins; her person, her breeding, her modesty, her honor, her 
religion, her early marriage, the guide of her soul, and the guide of 
her youth, were so many fountains of restraining grace to her, to 
keep her from the dishonors of a crime. It is good to bear the yoke 
of the Lord from our youth ; and though she did so, being guarded 
by a mighty Providence, and a great favor and grace of God, from 
staining her fair soul with the spots of hell, yet she had strange fears 
and early cares upon her; but these were not only for herself but in 
order to others, to her nearest relatives. And because she knew 
that the sins of parents descend upon children, she endeavored by 
justice and religion, by charity and honor, to secure that her channel 
should convey nothing but health and a fair example and a blessing. 

And though her accounts to God were made up of nothing but 
small parcels, little passions, and angry words, and trifling discon- 
tents, which are the allays of the piety of the most holy persons, 
yet she was early at her repentance ; and toward the latter end of 
her days grew so fast in religion, as if she had had a revelation of 
her approaching end, and therefore that she must go a great way in a 
little time : her discourses were more full of religion, her prayers 
more frequent, her charity increasing, her forgiveness more forward, 
her friendships more communicative, her passions more under disci- 
pline ; and so she trimmed her lamp, not thinking her night was so near, 
but that it might shine also in the day-time, in the temple, and before 
the altar of incense. 



140 CHARACTER OF 

But in this course of hers there were some circumstances, and 
some appendages of substances, which were highly remarkable. 

1. In all her religion, and in all her actions of relation towards 
God, she had a singular evenness and untroubled passage, sliding to- 
wards her ocean of God and of infinity with a certain and silent mo- 
tion. So have I seen a river deep and smooth passing with a still 
foot and a sober face, and paying to the great exchequer of the sea 
the prince of all the watery bodies, a tribute large and full ; and 
hard by it a little brook skipping and making a noise upon its unequal 
and neighbor bottom ; and after all its talking and bragged motion, it 
paid to its common audit no more than the revenues of a little cloud 
or a contemptible vessel ; so have I sometimes compared the issues 
of her religion to the solemnities and famed outsides of another's 
piety. It dwelt upon her spirit, and was incorporated with the period- 
ical work of every day : she did not believe that religion was inten- 
ded to minister to fame and reputation, but to pardon of sins, to the 
pleasure of God, and the salvation of souls. 

2. The other appendage of her religion, which also was a great 
ornament to all the parts of her life, was a rare modesty and humility 
of spirit, a confident [resolute] despising and undervaluing of her- 
self; for though she had the greatest judgment and the greatest ex- 
perience of things and persons that I ever yet knew in a person of 
her youth, and sex, and circumstances, yet, as if she knew nothing 
of it, she had the meanest opinion of herself, and like a fair taper 
when she shined to all the room, yet round about her own station 
she had cast a shadow and a cloud, and she shined to every body 
but herself. But the perfection of her prudence and excellent 
parts could not be hid, and all her humility and arts of conceal- 
ment made the virtues more amiable and illustrious. 

I know not by what instrument it happened, but when death drew 
near, before it made any show upon her body, or revealed itself by 
a natural signification, it was conveyed to her spirit ; she had a strange 
secret persuasion that the bringing this child into the world should 
be her last scene of life, and so it was that the thought of death 
dwelt long with her, and grew from the first steps of fancy and fear 
to a consent, from thence to a strange credulity and expectation of it, 
and without the violence of sickness she died ; and in this I cannot 
but adore the Providence, and admire the wisdom and infinite mer- 
cies of God ; for having a tender and soft, a delicate and fine consti- 
tution, she was tender to pain, and apprehensive of it, as a child's 
shoulder is of a load and burden, and in her often discourses of death 
which she would renew willingly and frequently, she would tell that 
she feared not death, but she feared the sharp pains of death. The 
being dead and being freed from the troubles and dangers of this 
world she hoped would be for her advantage, and therefore that was 
no part of her fear ; but she believing the pangs of death were great, 
and the use and aids of reason little, feared lest they should do vio- 



LADY CARBERY. 1 4 I 

lence to her spirit and the decency of her resolution. But God that 
knew her fears and her jealousy concerning herself, fitted her with a 
death so easy, so harmless, so painless, that it did not put her pa- 
tience to a severe trial. It was not (in all appearance) of so much 
trouble as two fits of a common ague ; so careful was God to de- 
monstrate to all that stood in that sad attendance, that this soul was 
dear to him ; and that since she had done so much of her duty to 
him, he that began would also finish her redemption by an act of a 
rare Providence and a singular mercy. 

Blessed be that goodness of God, who does such careful actions of 
mercy for the ease and security of his servants. But this one in- 
stance was a great demonstration that the apprehension of death is 
worse than the pains of death ; and that God loves to reprove the 
unreasonableness of our fears, by the mightiness and by the arts of 
his mercy. 

She had in her sickness, if I may so call it, or rather in the solem- 
nities and graver preparations towards death, some remarkable and 
well-becoming fears concerning the final estate of her soul. But 
from thence she passed into a deliquium, or a kind of trance, and as 
soon as she came forth of it, as if it had been a vision, or that she had 
conversed with an angel, and from his hand had received a label or 
scroll of the book of life, and there seen her name enrolled, she cried 
out aloud, " Glory be to God on high : now I am sure I " shall be 
saved." Concerning which manner of discoursing we are wholly 
ignorant what judgment can be made ; but certainly there are strange 
things in the other world, and so there are in all the immediate pre- 
paration to it ; and a little glimpse of heaven, a minute's conversing 
with an angel, any ray of God, any communication extraordinary 
from the spirit of comfort which God gives to his servants in strange 
and unknown manners, are infinitely far from illusions ; and they 
shall then be understood by us when we feel them, and when our 
new and strange needs shall be refreshed by such unusual visitations. 

But I must be forced to use summaries and arts of abbreviature in 
the enumerating those things in which this rare personage was dear 
to God, and to all her relatives. If we consider her person, she was 
in the flower of her age, of a temperate, plain, and natural diet, with- 
out curiosity or an intemperate palate ; she spent less time in dress- 
ing than many servants ; her recreations were little and seldom, her 
prayers often, her reading much; she was of a most noble and chari- 
table soul ; a great lover of honorable actions, and as great a despiser 
of base things ; especially loving to oblige others, and very unwilling 
to be in arrear to any upon the stock of courtesies and liberality ; so 
free in all acts of favor that she would not stay to hear herself thank- 
ed, as being unwilling that what good went from her to a needful or 
an obliged person should ever return to her again ; she was an excel- 
lent friend, and singularly dear to very many, especially to the best 
and most discerning persons, to all that conversed with her and could 



142 CHARACTER OF 

understand her great worth and sweetness ; she was of an honorable, 
a nice and tender reputation, and of the pleasures of this world, 
which were laid before her in heaps, she took a very small and in- 
considerable share, as not loving to glut herself with vanity, or to 
take her portion of good things here below. If we look on her as a 
wife, she was chaste and loving, discreet and humble. If we remem- 
ber her as a mother, she was kind and severe, careful and prudent, 
very tender, and not at all fond, a greater lover of her children's souls 
than of their bodies, and one that would value them more by the strict 
rules of honor and proper worth, than by their relation to herself. 
Her servants found her prudent and fit to govern, and yet open- 
handed and apt to reward ; a just exacter of their duty, and a great 
rewarder of their diligence. 

She was in her house a comfort to her dearest lord, a guide to her 
children, a rule to her servants, an example to all. 

But as she was related to God in the offices of religion, she was 
even and constant, silent and devout, prudent and material [solid] ; 
she loved what she now enjoys, and she feared what she never felt, 
and God did for her what she never did expect. Her fears went be- 
yond all her evil ; and yet the good which she hath received was, 
and is, and ever shall be, beyond all her hopes. She lived as we all 
should live, and she died as I fain would die — 

" Et cum supremos Lachesis pervenerit annos, 
" Non aliter cineres mando jacere meos." 

The preceding character is drawn in so striking and comprehen- 
sive a manner, and' its peculiar beauty and excellence are pointed 
out with so correct and discriminating a judgment by the pious and 
eloquent author, that but little need be added, to recommend it to 
the notice and imitation of the reader ; the following brief observa- 
tions, however, will not be thought wholly superfluous. 

The elevated rank of the subject of the foregoing eulogium is, first 
deserving of attention. Lady Carbery moved in that sphere of life 
which is exposed to peculiar dangers and temptations from the allure- 
ments of the world; and in which "greatness" (as it is admirably 
observed in the preceding passages,) is, in consequence, " too often 
expressed in great follies and great vices." Hence, the example 
of her piety and virtue shines with a lustre proportioned to the emi- 
nence on which she was placed, and to the difficulties with which she 
was surrounded. She had, indeed, the singular advantage of " a 
strict and severe education ;" by which we are evidently to under- 
stand, an education conducted upon the genuine principles of Chris- 
tianity, which, under the divine blessing, tended to correct the false 
views and expectations which her situation would naturally produce, 
and to set before her the good and perfect will of God, as the rule 
of her sentiments and conduct, and conformity to it as the source 
of all true greatness and happiness. Thus wisely brought up " in 
the nurture and admonition of the Lord," she came forth into the 



LADY CARBERY. 143 

world well qualified to adorn her exalted station. It is, however, 
greatly to the honor of the age in which she lived, that Lady Carbery 
was by no means a singular example of piety united to high rank 
and fortune. Many others, of equal condition and of either sex, 
grace the annals of that period by a similar display of religious excel- 
lence : and this is a circumstance which deserves to be particularly 
noticed. If in the present day we look to the characters of the 
higher orders of society, we shall find but very few who resemble 
that of Lady Carbery. Doubtless, 

" We boast some rich ones whom the Gospel sways ; 
M And one who wears a coronet and prays !" 

Nay, more perhaps, than one. But still, as the same truly Christian 
poet adds, 

" Like gleanings of an olive-tree, they show 
" Here and there one upon the topmost bough." 

And that only: yet why should this be so? True religion is so far 
from being an enemy to human greatness or prosperity, that wherev- 
er it is found in conjunction with them, it is seen to add grace and 
dignity to the one, and to lessen the dangers and increase the happi- 
ness of the other. Should this Memoir, therefore, fall into the hands 
of any who are thus highly favored by this world's good, let them 
learn from the example of Lady Carbery, that to be truly noble, 
they must be " born of God ;" that to possess real wealth they must 
be " rich towards him, rich in faith, and " heirs of a kingdom which 
cannot be moved." 

But there are two or three features in the religious character of 
this lady to which we would particularly direct the attention of our 
readers of every description. What we have principally in view may 
be denominated the solidity of her piety. The religion of Lady 
Carbery was founded in humility before God, and was richly pro- 
ductive of the substantial graces and virtues of a christian ; the love 
of God and of her neighbors ; subdued and well-regulated affections 
and desires respecting the things of this world 5 and a daily prepara- 
tion for the employments and pleasures of a better. Her chief care 
and anxiety seem to have been directed towards the attainment and 
exercise of the power of godliness. For this she read the word of 
God, prayed in public and in private, and listened to the instructions 
of the pulpit. Religion, in short, appears to have been considered 
by her, not so much as intended to procure her any particular charac- 
ter amongst men, as " to teach her all her duty," to make her perfect 
and complete in all the will of God. 

As a striking proof of the truth of these observations, we request 
our readers, especially the female part of them, to consider the ex- 
emplary and amiable conduct of Lady Carbery in every domestic 
relation and duty, more particularly in her conduct towards her 



144 CHARACTER, &iC. 

children. This is a part of her character which is well deserving of 
imitation. " Her religion," adds her pious eulogist, " dwelt upon 
her spirit, and was incorporated with the periodical work of every 
day." This is pure and undefiled religion. May its influence be 
more widely diffused throughout the religious world ; for this is good 
and profitable unto men, and redounds to the glory of God ! 

Conformably to such a life was the death of Lady Carbery, calm 
and peaceful; and honored by a remarkable token of the divine pres- 
ence and favor. The account which the right reverend author of her 
character gives of this circumstance, is no less judicious than it is 
beautiful and interesting. And there is something peculiarly satis- 
factory in the evidence by which it is attested. It is greatly to be 
feared that the want of more frequent instances of this kind in the 
present day, is owing to our low attainments in the knowledge and 
love of God. Hence it is, that the promise, amongst others of a 
similar nature, which is recorded John xiv. 23, is so seldom accom- 
plished in life, and at the hour of death. 

What has thus been added to the character of Lady Carbery will 
tend to recommend to the notice of our readers that kind of religion 
of which she was so eminent an example; retired, yet substantial; 
elevated in its principles, yet chiefly discernible in the moral regula- 
tion of the heart and life, by the precepts of the gospel. 






145 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 



This lady was born about the year 1636, and was the daughter 
of Thomas Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, by his first wife, Ra- 
chel, daughter of Henry de Massey, Baron of Rovigny, and sister 
to the Marquis of Rovigny, father of Henry, Earl of Galway. She 
was married first to Francis, Lord Vaughan, eldest son of Richard, 
Earl of Carbery, and afterwards, about the year 1669, to William, 
Lord Russell, son of William, Earl of Bedford, by whom she had 
one son and two daughters. Lady Rachel, the eldest, was married 
to William, Lord Cavendish, afterwards Duke of Devonshire ; and 
the Lady Catharine, the youngest, to John Manners, Lord Roos, 
afterwards Duke of Rutland. Wriothesley, the son, married Eliz- 
abeth, only daughter and heir of John Howland, Esquire, was crea- 
ted Baron Howland of Streatham, June 13, 1695, and succeeded his 
grandfather in 1700; became Duke of Bedford, and died May 26, 
1711, in the thirty-first year of his age. By this lady he had three 
sons and two daughters. 

It is well known, and is an event which can never be forgotten, 
that the husband of this lady, William, Lord Russel, was beheaded 
July 21, 1683. How worthy a man he was, how true a friend to 
the liberties of his country, how undeserving of his bitter treatment, 
and with what an invincible fortitude he met his cruel doom, the In- 
troduction to the Letters of Lady Rachel Russel, his widow, partic- 
ularly shews, and to that we refer our readers.* 

As our concern is only with his relict, we shall turn our thoughts 
entirely to her. We own we are not furnished with any considera- 
ble materials for our Memoirs of her before the dismal period of her 
illustrious husband's sufferings. At this juncture she conducted her- 
self with a mixture of the most tender affection, and the most surpri- 
sing magnanimity. She appeared in court at the trial of her hus- 
band ; and when the Attorney-General told him, " he might use the 
hands of one of his servants in waiting to take notes of the evidence 
for his use ;" Lord Russell answered, " that he asked none, but that 
of the lady that sat by him." The spectators at these words turning 
their eyes, and beholding the daughter of the virtuous Southampton 
rising up to assist her lord in this his utmost distress, a thrill of an- 
guish ran through the assembly. After his condemnation she threw 



" Letters of Lady Rachel Russell from the manuscript in the Library at Woo- 
burn-Abbey ; to which is prefixed an Introduction, vindicating the character of Lord 
Russell against Sir John Dalrymplc, &c. third edit, printed 1774. 

19 



146 



MEMOIRS OF 



herself at the king's feet, and pleaded, but, alas ! in vain, with his 
majesty the merits and loyalty of her father,* in order to save her 
husband. And without a sigh or tear she took her last farewell of 
him, when it might have been expected, as they were so perfectly 
happy in each other, and no wife could possibly surpass her in affec- 
tion to an husband, that the torrent of her distress would have over- 
flowed its banks, and been too mighty for all the powers of reason 
and religion to have restrained it. Indeed the affection of Lord 
Russell and his lady to each other, and their behavior in the season 
of their extremity of distress were very remarkable, and well deserve 
a particular mention. On the Tuesday before Lord Russell's exe- 
cution,! after dinner, when his lady was gone, he expressed great 
joy in the magnanimity of spirit he saw in her, and declared, " the 
parting with her was the greatest thing he had to do ; for," he said, 
" she would be hardly able to bear it ; the concern about preserving 
him filled her mind so now, that it in some measure supported her, 
but, when that would be over, he feared the quickness of her spirits 
would work all within her." On Thursday, while his lady was gone 
to try to gain a respite till Monday, he said, " he wished she would 
give over beating every bush, and running so about for his preserva- 
tion ; but when he considered that it would be some mitigation of her 
sorrow that she left nothing undone that could have given any prob- 
able hope, he acquiesced." Indeed his heart was never seen so near 
failing him as when he spake- of her. Sometimes a tear would be 
seen in his eye, and he would turn about, and presently change the 
discourse. The evening before his death he suffered his children, 
who were very young, and some of his friends, to take leave of him ; 
in which interview he preserved his constancy of temper, though he 
was a very fond parent. He parted with his lady at the same time 
with a composed silence, and she had such a command of herself, 
that when she was gone, he said, " the bitterness of death was past," 
for he loved and esteemed her beyond expression. He ran out into 
a long discourse concerning her, declaring, " how great a blessing- 
she had been to him, and what a misery it would have been to him 



*" The Earl of Southampton," says Clarendon, "was a great man in all respects, 
and brought very much reputation to King Charles the First his cause. He went 
to the king to York, was most solicitous for the offer of peace at Nottingham, was 
with him at Edge-Hill, and came and stayed with him at Oxford to the end of the 
war." Burnet calls him, " a man of great virtue and good parts, of a lively imagin- 
ation and sound judgment, who had merited much by his constant adherence to the 
king's interest during the war, and the large remittances he made him in his exile, 
and styles him a fast friend to the public — the wise and virtuous Earl of Southamp- 
ton — vvho deserved every thing the king could give him." — " The king," says Old- 
mixon, " saw the virtuous and lovely Lady Russell weeping at his feet, imploring 
but a short reprieve for her condemned lord, with dry eyes and a stony heart, though 
she was the daughter of the Earl of Southampton the best friend he ever had in his 
life." — See the Introduction to Lady Russell's Letters. 

t See the Introduction to Lady Russell's Letters. 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 147 

if she had not had thai magnanimity of spirit joined to her tender- 
ness, as never to have desired him to do a base thing for the saving 
his life." He added, " there was a signal providence of God in giv- 
ing him such a wife, where there were birth, fortune, great under- 
standing, great religion, and great kindness to himself; but her car- 
riage," said he, " in my extremity was beyond all. He was glad 
that she and his children were to lose nothing by his death, and it 
was a great comfort to him that he left his children in such a moth- 
er's hands, and that she had promised him to take care of herself for 
their sakes." As to Lady Russell, she bore the shock of his death 
with the same magnanimity she had shewn at her lord's trial. When 
in open court, attending at her lord's side, she took notes, and made 
observations of all that passed on his behalf, and when prostrate at 
the king's feet, and pleading with his majesty in remembrance of her 
deceased father's services, in order to save her husband, she was a 
spectacle of the most lively compassion ; but now, when without sigh 
or tear, she took her last farewell of him, she was an object of the 
highest admiration. 

After this most distressing event, the death of her lord upon the 
scaffold, this excellent lady, though encompassed round with the dark- 
est clouds of affliction, seemed to be absorbed in a religious concern 
to behave herself aright towards her God under his mighty hand, and 
to fulfil the duties now devolved upon herself alone in the care, edu- 
cation, disposal, and happiness of her children, those living remains 
of her lord, and which had been so dear to him, and were for his 
sake, as well as her own, so dear to herself. 

In proof of this pious and maternal spirit which animated her lady- 
ship during the residue of her days, the following Extracts from her 
Letters are laid before our readers. Extracts we call them, for they 
are by no means the whole of her Letters, which, if they had been 
all given, would have been too large to have been comprised under a 
single article in our work, and at the same time would not have di- 
rectly fallen in with our design, that of exhibiting her as an eminently 
pious personage, as some, and indeed several of her Epistles relate, 
at least in a great part, to matters of public intelligence, business, and 
other inferior concerns. 

EXTRACTS FROM THE LETTERS OF LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 

Lady Russell to Doctor Fitzwilliam.* 
1 need not tell you, good doctor, how little capable I am of such 
an exercise as this.f You will soon find how unfit I am still for it, 

* A divine for whom Lady Russell had a great esteem and friendship. He had 
been chaplain to her father, "as lie was afterwards to the Duke of York, was Rector 
of Cottenham, in Cambridgeshire, and Canon of Windsor, which preferments he lost 
after the Revolution, upon refusal of the oaths. Ke died in or about the year Hiyti, 
having appointed all the Letters which Lady Russell wrote to him to be* returned to 
her Ladyship, that they might be printed; but many of them, says the Editor of her 
Letters, do not appear. — See her Letters, p. 307. 

t Lord Russell, her husband, was beheaded July 21, 1683. 



148 MEMOIRS OF 

since my yet disordered thoughts can offer me no other than such 
words as express the deepest sorrows, and confused as my yet amaz- 
ed mind is. But such men as you, and particularly one so much 
my friend, will, I know, bear with my weakness, and compassionate my 
distress, as you have already done by your good letter, and excellent 
prayer. I endeavor to make the best use I can of both ; but I am 
so evil and unworthy a creature, that, though I have desires, yet 1 
have no dispositions or worthiness towards receiving comfort. You, 
that knew us both, and how we lived, must allow I have just cause to 
bewail my loss. I know it is common with others to lose a friend, 
but to have lived with such an one, it may be questioned how few 
can glory in the like happiness, so consequently lament the like loss. 
Who can but shrink at such a blow ; till, by the mighty aid of his Ho- 
ly Spirit, we let the gift of God, which he hath put into our hearts, 
interpose ? That reason which sets a measure to our souls in pros- 
perity, will then suggest many things which we have seen and heard, 
to moderate us in such sad circumstances as mine : but, alas ! my 
understanding is clouded, my faith weak, sense strong, and the devil 
busy to fill my thoughts with false notions, difficulties, and doubts : 
but this I hope to make matter of humiliation, not sin. Lord, let me 
understand the reason of these dark and wounding providences, that I 
sink not under the discouragement of my own thoughts ! I know I 
have deserved my punishment and will be silent under it; but yet 
secretly my heart mourns, too sadly I fear, and cannot be comforted, 
because I have not the dear companion and sharer of all my joys and 
sorrows. I want him to talk with, to walk with, to eat and sleep with. All 
these things are irksome to me now: the day unwelcome, and the night 
so too. All company and meals I would avoid, if it might be ; yet all 
this is that I enjoy not the world in my own way, and this sure hin- 
ders my comfort. When I see my children before me, I remember 
the pleasure he took in them. This makes my heart shrink. Can 
1 regret his quitting a lesser good for a bigger ? O ! if I did steadfastly 
believe, I could not be dejected ; for I will not injure myself to say I 
offer my mind any inferior consolation to supply this loss. No, I most 
willingly forsake this world, this vexatious, troublesome world, in 
which I have no other business but to rid my soul from sin, secure my 
eternal interests, with patience and courage to bear my eminent misfor- 
tunes, and ever hereafter be above the smiles and frowns of it; and, 
when I have done the remnant of the work appointed me on earth, 
then joyfully wait for the heavenly perfection in God's good time, 
when by his infinite mercy I may be accounted worthy to enter into 
the same place of rest and repose where he is gone, for whom only J 
grieve. From that contemplation must come my best support. Good 
doctor, you will think as you have reason, that I set no bounds, 
when 1 let myself loose to my complaints ; but I will release you, first 
fervently asking the continuance of your prayers for your infinitely 
afflicted, but very faithful servant, R. Russell. 

Wouburn Abbey, September 30, 1683. 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 149 

Lady Russell to Doctor Fitzivilliam. 

It is above a fortnight, I believe, good doctor, since I received 
your comforting letter, and it is displeasing to me that I am but now 
sitting down to tell you so ; but it is allotted to persons under my dis- 
mal title, and yet more dismal circumstances, to have additional cares, 
from which I am sure I am not exempt, but am very unfit to dis- 
charge well or wisely, especially under the oppressions I feel , how- 
ever, it is my lot, and a part of duty remaining to my choicest friend, 
and those pledges he has left me. That remembrance makes me do 
my best, and so occasions the putting by such employments as suit 
better my present temper of mind, as this I am now about, since, if 
in the multitude of these sorrows that possess my soul, I find any re- 
freshments, though, alas ! such as are but momentary, it is but cast- 
ing off some of my crowded thoughts to compassionate friends, such 
as deny not to weep with those that weep, or in reading such discours- 
es and advices as your letter supplies me with, which I hope you 
will believe I have read more than once, and if I have more days to 
pass upon this earth, I mean to do so often, since I profess of all those 
that have been offered me, in which charity has been most abound- 
ing to me,* none have in all particulars more suited my humor. You 



* That eminently great and good man, the Reverend John Howe, wrote a most 
excellent letter to her Ladyship in this season of her distress, which well deserves 
in the whole of it a place in our work, but it is too long for insertion. However, 
some passages we shall take leave to select, which arc as follow : — "The cause ot 
your sorrow, madam, is exceedingly great. The causes of your joy are inexpressi- 
bly greater. You have infinitely more left than you have lost. Doth it need to he 
disputed whether God be better and greater than man? or more to be valued, lov- 
ed, and delighted in ? and whether an eternal relation be more considerable than a 
temporary one ? was it not your constant sense in your best outward state, ' whom 
have I in heaven but thee, O God ! and whom can I desire on earth in comparison of 
thee ?' Psalm lxxiii. 25. Herein the state of your Ladyship's case is still the same 
if you cannot rather with greater clearness, and with less hesitation, pronounce' 
these latter words. The principal causes of our joy arc immutable, such as no su- 
pervening thing can alter. You have lost a most pleasant, delectable, earthly rela- 
tive. Doth the blessed God hereby cease to be the best and most excellent good ? 
Is his nature changed ? his everlasting covenant reversed, and annulled, ' which is 
ordered in all things, and sure, and is to be all your salvation, and all your desire 
whether he make your house on earth to grow, or not to grow ? 2 Sam. xxiii. 5' 
That sorrow which exceeds the proportion of its cause, compared with the remain- 
ing and real causes of rejoicing, is in that excess causeless, i. e. that excess of it 
wants a cause, such as can justify or afford defense unto it. 

"Again, we ought to consider in every case principally that which is principal 
God did not create this or that excellent person, and place him for a while in the 
world principally to please us; nor doth he therefore take him away principally to 
displease, or punish us, hut for much nobler and greater ends, which he hath propo- 
sed to himself concerning bun. Nor are we to reckon ourselves so little interested 
in the great and sovereign Lord of all, whom vvc have taken to be our God, and to 
whom we have absolutely resigned and devoted ourselves, as not to be obliged to 
consider and satisfy ourselves in his pleasure, purposes, and ends, more than our Own 
apart from his. Such as he hath pardoned, accepted and prepared for himself, are 
to serve and glorify Inm in an higher and more exalted capacity than they ever could 
in this wretched world of ours, and wherein they have themselves the highest sat- 
isfaction When the ble^ed God is pleased in having attained and accomplished 



150 MEMOIRS OF 

deal with me, sir, just as I would be dealt withal ; and it is possible 1 
feel the more smart from my raging griefs, because 1 would not take 
them off but upon fit considerations, as it is easiest to our natures to 
have our sore in deep wounds gently handled, yet as most profitable I 
would yield, nay desire to have mine searched, that, as you religious- 
ly design by it, they may not fester. It is possible that I grasp at too 
much of this kind for a spirit so broken by affliction, for I am so 
jealous that time, or necessity, the ordinary abater of all violent pas= 
sions, nay even employment, or company of such friends as I have 
left, should do that my reason or religion ought to do, as makes me 
covet the best advices, and use all methods to obtain such a relief, as 



the end and intendments of his own boundless love, too great to be satisfied with 
the conferring only temporary favors in this imperfect state, and they are pleased in 
partaking the full effects of that love, who are we that we should be displeased ? or 
that we should oppose our satisfaction to that of the glorious God, and the glorified 
creature ? 

"Therefore, madam, whereas you cannot avoid to think much on this subject, and 
to have the removal of that incomparable person for a gYeat theme of your thoughts 
I only propose most humbly to your honor, that you would not confine them to the 
sadder and darker part of that theme. It hath also a bright side, and it equally be- 
longs to it to consider whither he is gone, and to whom, as whence and from whom. 
Let, I beseech you, your mind be more exercised in contemplating the glories of that 
state into which your blessed consort is translated, which will mingle pleasure and 
sweetness with the bitterness of your afflicting loss, by giving you a daily intellec- 
tual participation through the exercise of faith and hope in his enjoyments. He 
cannot descend to share with you in your sorrows; but you may thus every day 
ascend, and partake with him in his joys. He is a pleasant subject to consider; a 
prepared spirit made meet for an inheritance with them that are sanctified, and with 
the saints in light now entered into a state so connatural, and wherein it finds every 
thing most agreeable to itself. How highly grateful it is to be united with the true 
center, and come home to the Father of Spirits ! to consider how pleasant a wel- 
come, how joyful an entertainment, your consort hath met with above ! how de- 
lighted an associate he is with the general assembly, the innumerable company of 
angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect ! how joyful an homage he continu- 
ally pays to the throne of the celestial King ! 

" Will your ladyship think that an hard saying of our departing Lord to his mourn- 
ful disciples, ' If ye loved me you would rejoice that I said, I go to the Father, for 
my Father is greater than I?' John, xiv. 28. As if he had said, ' He sits enthroned 
in higher glory than you can frame any conception of by beholding me in so mean a 
condition on earth.' We are as remote, and as much short in our thoughts as to 
conceiving the glory of the supreme King, as a peasant, who never saw any thing 
better than his own cottage, from conceiving the splendor of the most glorious 
princes' court. But if that faith, which is the substance of things hoped for, and the 
evidence of things not seen, be much accustomed to its proper work and business, 
the daily, delightful visiting and viewing the glorious, invisible regions; if it be of- 
ten conversant in those vast and spacious tracts of pure and brightest light, and 
among the holy inhabitants that replenish them, if it frequently employ itself in con- 
templating their comely order, perfect harmony, sublime wisdom, unspotted purity, 
most fervent mutual love, delicious conversation with each other, and perpetual, 
pleasant consent in their adoration and observance of their eternal King, who is 
there to whom it would not be a solace to think I have such and such friends and 
relatives, some perhaps as dear as my own life, perfectly well pleased, and happy 
among them! how can you love, madam, so generous a love towards so deserving 
an object, how can it but more fervently sparkle in joy for his sake, than dissolve in 
tears for your own ? 

" Nor should such thoughts excite over-hasty, impatient desires of following pres- 
ently to heaven, but to the endeavors of serving God more cheerfully on earth for 
our appointed time, which I earnestly desire your ladyship to apply yourself to, as 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 151 

I can ever hope for, a silent submission to this severe and terrible 
providence, without any ineffective unwillingness to bear what I must 
suffer, and such a victory over myself that, when once allayed, im- 
moderate passions may not be apt to break out again upon fresh oc- 
casions and accidents offering to my memory that dear object of my 
desires which must happen every day, I may say every hour of the 
longest life I can live ; that, so, when I must return into the world so 
far as to act that part that is incumbent upon me in faithfulness to him 
I owe as much as can be due to man, it may be with a great strength 
of spirits, and grace to live a stricter life of holiness to my God, who 
will not always let me cry to him in vain. On him I will wait till he 
have pity upon me, humbly imploring that by the mighty aids of his 



you would not displease God, who is your only hope, nor be cruel to yourself, nor 
dishonor the religion of Christians, as if they had no other consolations than this 
earth can give, and earthly power can take from them. Your ladyship, if any one, 
would be loath to do any thing unworthy your family and parentage. Your high- 
est alliance is to that Father and family above, whose dignity and honor are, I 
douht not of highest account with you." 

" I multiply words, being loath to lose my design. I shall only add that conside- 
ration, which cannot but be valuable with you, upon his first proposal, who had all 
the advantages imaginable to give it its full weight, I mean that of those dear pledges 
left behind. My own heart even bleeds to think of the case of those sweet babes, 
should they be bereaved of their other parent too : and even your continued visible 
dejection would be their unspeakable disadvantage. You always naturally create 
in them a reverence of you, and I cannot but apprehend how the constant mien, as- 
pect and deportment of such a parent will insensibly influence the temper of dutiful 
children, and if they be sad and despondent, depress their spirits and blunt and take 
off the edge and quickness, upon which their future comfort and usefulness will 
much depend. Were it possible their now glorious father should visit and inspect 
you, would you not be troubled to behold a frown in that bright and serene face ? 
You are to please a more penetrating eye, which you will best do by putting on a 
temper and deportment suitable to your weighty charge and duty, and to the great 
purposes for which God continues you in the world, by giving over unnecessary sol- 
itude and retirement, which, though they please you, do really prejudice you, and 
are more than you can bear. Nor can any rules of decency require more. Noth- 
ing that is necessary and truly Christian ought to be reckoned unbecoming. Da- 
vid's example, 2 Sam. xxii. 20, is of too great authority to be counted a pattern of 
indecency. The God of heaven lift up the light of his countenance upon you, and 
thereby put gladness into your heart, and give you to apprehend him saying to you, 
' Arise, and walk in the light of the Lord ?" 

" That I have used so much freedom in this paper, I make no apology for ; but do, 
therefore, hide myself in the dark, not judging it consistent with that plainness which 
I thought the case might require, to give any other account of myself, than that I 
am one deeply sensible of your and your noble relatives' deep affliction, and who 
scarce ever bow the knee before the mercy-seat without remembering it, and who 
shall ever be, madam, your Ladyship's 

" Most sincere honorer, and 

" Most humble devoted servant." 

Though Mr. Howe, says Dr. Calamy,thc writer of his Life, did not put his name 
to this his consolatory epistle, yet the style, and several particularities in it, soon dis- 
covered who was the author. Her ladyship sent him a letter of thanks, and told 
him that he must not expect to remain concealed. She promised to endeavor to fol- 
low the advice he had given her, and often wrote to him afterwards ; some of which 
letters, says Dr. Calamy, I have seen and read, and they show that his freedom was 
taken kindly, and that his pains were well bestowed.— See Dr. Calamy's Life of Mr. 
Howe, prefixed to his Works, p. 33. 



152 MEMOIRS OF 

Holy Spirit he will touch my heart with greater love to himself, 
Then shall I be what he would have me. But I am unworthy of such 
a spiritual blessing, who remain so unthankful a creature for those 
earthly ones I have enjoyed, because I have them no longer. Yet 
God, who knows our frames, will not expect that when we are weak 
we should be strong. This is much comfort under my deep dejec- 
tions, which are surely increased by the subtile malice of the great 
enemy of souls taking all advantage upon my present weakened and 
wasted spirits, assaulting with diverse temptations, as, when I have in 
any measure overcome one kind, I find another in the room, as when 
I am less afflicted, as I before complained, then I find reflections 
troubling me, as omissions of some sort or other, that if either great- 
er persuasions had been used — he had gone away — or some errors at 
the trial amended — or other applications made, he might have been 
acquitted, and so yet have been in the land of the living, though I 
discharged not these things as faults upon myself, yet as aggravations 
to my sorrows, so that my heart shrinks to think his time possibly 
was shortened by unwise management. I believe I do ill to torment 
myself with such unprofitable thoughts. 

Lady Russell to Doctor Tillotson. 

Your letters never trouble me, Mr. Dean*. On the contrary, 
they are comfortable refreshments to my, for the most part, overbur- 
thened mind, which, both by nature and accident, is made so weak, 
that I cannot bear with that constancy I should the losses I have 
lately felt. I can say, friends and acquaintance thou hast hid out of 
my sight, but I hope it shall not disturb my peace. These were 
young, and as they had begun their race of life after me, so I desired 
they might have ended it also. But happy are those whom God 
withdraws in his grace. I trust these were so, and then no age can be 
amiss. To the young it is not too early, nor to the aged too late. 
Submission and prayer are all we know that we can do towards our 
own relief in our distresses, or to disarm God's anger, either in our 
public or private concerns. The scene will soon alter to that peace- 
ful and eternal home in prospect. But in this time of our pilgrim- 
age, vicissitudes of all sorts are every one's lot. — 

About the middle of October, 1690. 

Lady Russell to Lady Sunderland.^ 

Your kind letter, madam, asks me to do much better for me and 
mine than to scribble so insignificantly as I do on a piece of paper ; 
but for twenty several reasons yours must have the advantage you of- 
fer me with obliging earnestness a thousand times greater than I de- 



*Then Dean of St. Paul's, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, 
t Daughter of George Digby, Earl of Bristol. 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 153 

serve, or than there can be cause for, but that you have taken a reso- 
lution to be all goodness and favor to me : and, indeed, what greater 
proof can you ever give than remembering me so often, and letting 
me receive the exceeding advantage of your doing so by reading 
your letters, which are all so edifying ? when I know you are contin- 
ually engaged in so great and necessary employments as you are ; 
and have but too imperfect health, which would unfit any other in 
the world but Lady Sunderland, for at least so great dispatches as 
you are charged with. These are most visible tokens of Providence 
that every one that aims to do their duty shall be enabled to do it. 

I hope your natural strength is so great, that it will in some time, 
if you do your part, master what has been accidentally in the disor- 
der of it. Health, if one strictly considers, is the first of earthly 
blessings ; for even the conversation of friends, which, as to spiritual 
-profits, as you excellently observe, as it is the nearest approach we 
can make to heaven while we live in these tabernacles of clay, so it 
is in a temporal sense also the most pleasant and the most profitable 
improvement we can make of the time we are to spend on earth. 
But, as 1 was saying, if our bodies are out of tune, how little do we 
enjoy what in itself is so precious ! And how often must we choose, 
if we can attain it, a short slumber that may take off the sense of 
pain, rather than to accept what we know in worth excels almost to 
infiniteness ? No soul can speak more feelingly than my poor self on 
this subject, who can truly say my friendships have made all the joys 
and troubles of my life ; and yet, who would live and not love ? Those 
who have tried the insipidness of such a life would, 1 believe, never 
choose it. Mr. Waller says, " it is with singing all we know they do 
above." And it is enough, for if there is so charming a delight in the 
love, and suitableness in humors to creatures, what must it be to our 
clarified spirits to love in the presence of God ! Can there be a 
greater contemplation to provoke to diligence in our preparation for 
that great change, when we shall be perfected, and so continue for 
ever ? 

Her ladyship appears to have been a faithful guardian of her lord's 
reputation, and to have shewn his memory every honor that lay in 
her power. A few days after her lord's death, she, in vindication of 
his character, and indeed of Doctor Burnet's who was supposed to 
be the author or adviser of Lord Russell's speech upon the scaffold * 
wrote the following letter to the king. 

N. B. This letter is thus indorsed by her : 

My Letter to the King a few days after my dear Lord's death. 

• May it please your majesty, 
" I find my husband's enemies are not appeased with his blood, 



"Burnet's History of his own time, Vol. II. p. 209, edit. 1815. 
20 



154 MEMOIRS OF 

but still continue to misrepresent him to your majesty.* It is a 
great addition to my sorrows, to hear your majesty is prevailed upon 
to believe that the paper he delivered to the sheriff, at his death, was 
not his own. I can truly say, and am ready in the solemnest man- 
ner to attest, that [during his imprisonment] f I often heard him dis- 
course the chiefest matters contained in that paper in the same ex- 
pressions he therein uses, as some of those few relations that were 
admitted to him can likewise aver. And sure it is an argument of no 
great force that there is a phrase or two in it another uses, when no- 
thing is more common than to take up such words as we like, or are 
accustomed to in our conversation. I beg leave further to avow to 
your majesty, that all that is set down in the paper read to your ma- 
jestyo n Sunday night, to be spoken in my presence, is exactly true,J 
as I doubt not but the rest of the paper is, which was written at my 
request ; and the author of it, in all his conversations with my hus- 
band that I was privy to, shewed himself a loyal subject to your ma- 
jesty, a faithful friend to him, and a most tender and conscientious 
minister to his soul. I do therefore humbly beg your majesty chari- 
tably to believe that he, who in all his life was observed to act with 
the greatest clearness and sincerity, w r ould not at the point of death 
do so disingenuous and false a thing as to deliver for his own what 
was not properly and expressly so : and if after the loss, in such a 
manner, of the best husband in the world, I were capable of any con- 
solation, your majesty only could afford it by having better thoughts 
of him, which, when I was so importunate to speak with your majes- 
ty, I thought I had some reason to believe I should have inclined you 
to, not from the credit of my word, but upon the evidence of what I 
had to say. I hope I have written nothing in this that will displease 
your majesty. If I have, I humbly beg of you to consider it as com- 
ing from a woman amazed with grief, and that you will pardon the 
daughter of a person who served your majesty's father in his greatest 
extremities (and your majesty in your greatest posts,) and one that is 
not conscious of having ever done any thing to offend you (before.) 
I shall ever pray for your majesty's long life, and happy reign, who 
am, with all humility, may it please your majesty," &c. 

Upon the Duke of Monmouth's insurrection, || her ladyship thus 
writes to Doctor Filzwiliiam, in which letter, as there are the lender- 



* Burnet's History of bis Own Time, Vol. II. p. 209, edit 1815. 

1 The words included in the brackets are crossed out. 

i The paper contained an account of all that passed between Doctor Burnet and his 
lordship during his attendance upon him. This account Doctor Burnet calls a jour- 
nal, which he read before the kino- and council, at his majesty's command, on the day 
after Lord Russell's execution. — Burnet's History of his Own Time, Vol. II. p. 209, 
edit. 1815. 

|| The Duke of Monmouth was son to King Charles the Second, by Lucy Barlow, 
alias Wallers, in his declaration against James the Second, among other things, be 
accuses him of the barbarous murder of Arthur, Earl of Essex, in the Tower, and of 
several others, to conceal it ; of the most unjust condemnation of William Lord Bus- 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 155 

est accents of grief for her loss, her wounds still bleeding-, so there 
is the most honorable testimony borne to her lord's character. " And 
now, doctor, I take this wild attempt to be a new project not de- 
pending on or being linked in the least to any former design, if there 
was then any real one, which I am satisfied was not any more than 
(my own lord confessed) talk ; and it is possible that talk going so 
far as to consider if a remedy to supposed evils might be sought, 
how it could be formed ? But, as I was saying, if all this attempt 
was entirely new, yet the suspicion my lord must have lain under 
would have been great, and some other circumstances I do confess 
must have made his part an hard one, so that from the deceitfulness 
of the heart, or want of true sight in the directive faculty, what would 
have followed, God only knows. From the frailty of the will I 
should have feared but little evil, for he had so just a soul, so firm, 
so good, he could not warp from such principles as were so, unless 
misguided by his understanding, and that his own, not another's, for 
I dare say, as he could discern, he never went into any thing consid- 
erable upon the mere submission to any one's particular judgment. 
Now his own, I know, he could never have framed to have thought 
well of the late actings, and therefore most probably must have sat 
loose from them. But I am afraid his excellent heart, had he lived, 
would have been often pierced from the time his life was taken away 
to this. On the other hand, having, I trust, a reasonable ground of 
hope he has found those mercies he died with a cheerful persuasion 
he should, there is no reason to mourn my loss, when that soul I loved 
so well lives in felicities, and shall do so to all eternity. This [ know 
in reason should be my cure, but flesh and blood in this mixed state 
is such a slave to sense, the memory how I have lived, and how, as 
I think, I must ever do for the time to come, does so prevail and 
weaken my most Christian resolves, that I cannot act the part that 
mere philosophy, as you set down many instances, enabled many to 
an appearance of easiness, for T verily believe they had no more than 
me, but vainly affected it. As T began the day with your letter, and 
the sheets of discourse, both enclosed in one paper, so I conclude it 
with some prayers you formerly assisted me with. Thus, doctor, 
you see you have a special right to those prayers you are pleased I 
should present, for the same effect on your spirit, if a portion of suf- 



sell, ami Colonel Algernon Sidney, being only accused for meeting, in discharge of 
their duty to God and their country, to consult of extraordinary yet lawful means to 
rescue our religion and liberties from the hands of violence, when all ordinary means, 
according to the laws, were denied and obstructed : concluding, " And we do appeal 
unto the great God concerning the justice of our cause, and implore his aid and assist- 
ance that he would enable us to go forth in his name, and to do valiantly against his 
and our enemies, for he it is that know? that we have not chosen to engage in arms 
for corrupt and private ends or designs, but out of a deep sense of our duty; we 
therefore commit our cause unto him, who is the Lord of Hosts and the God of bat- 
tles." The Duke of Monmouth was taken, tried, and, on the 15th of July, 1685, be- 
headed. 



156 MEMOIRS OF 

fering should be your lot, as you now wish on mine, which after my 
poor fashion I will not be wanting in, that am, 

Sir, your obliged, and faithful 
Friend and servant, 

Rachel Russell. 

Southampton-house, 21 July. 1685." 

Her ladyship also, in the same affectionate regard to her lord's 
memory after the Revolution, made use of her interest in favor of his 
chaplain, Mr. Samuel Johnson, who calls Lord Russell " the greatest 
Englishmen we had," and was very instrumental in procuring him 
the pension, and other bounties, which he received from that govern- 
ment. It may be also added, that, as she had promised her lord to 
take care of her own life for the sake of his children, she was reli- 
giously mindful to perform that promise, and continued his widow to 
the end of her life, surviving him above forty years, for she lived to 
the 29th of September, 1723, dying in her 87th year. Indeed the 
series of letters during her long widowhood are the most tender and 
honorable testimonies of her respect to her husband's memory, and 
we may observe in them an almost unabating sorrow for the loss of 
him, united with an eminent piety, and profound submission to the di- 
vine will, at least no murmurs against it. 

It is observable concerning Lady Russell, that in the free effusions 
of her heart to her intimate friends, with the constant moans of grief 
for the loss of her dear husband, that we remember not upon a dili- 
gent perusal of her Letters so much as one trace of keen resentment 
or reflection upon any person whatever that had any concern in her 
husband's death, if rather it may not be called murder. If the 
Duke of York was so malignant as to instigate his brother, King 
Charles, to be inexorable to the applications that were made for Lord 
Russell's life,* and even to propose that he should be executed at his 

* The kins;, ?a ys Bishop Burnet, could not bear the discourse of shewing any favor 
to Lord Russell ; and the Duke of York would bear the discourse, though he was re- 
solved against the thing. But, according to Dr. Wellwood, the king was not only 
inclined to pardon him, but suhvred some words to escape on the very day he was ex- 
ecuted, as sufficiently shewed his irresolution in that matter, in the Duke of Mon- 
mouth's journal it is said, that the King told him that he inclined to have saved the 
Lord Russell, hut was forced to consent to his death, otherwise he must have broken 
with his brother, the Duke of York. The Duke of York descended so low in his re- 
venge, (originating not improbably from Lord Russell's having proposed the bill in 
16S0, to the Commons, to prevent a popish successor, and having carried it, when 
passed, to the House of Lords, for their concurrence,) as to desire that Lord Russell 
might be executed before his own door : an insult the king himself would not consent 
to. — Introduction to Lady Russell's Letter? p. (50. — But though Lady Russell, as far 
as we remember, calls not up, in a single hint, in all her Letters, the Duke of York's 
asperity against her husband, who was so dear to her, yet it seems that he was by 
another person, the father himself of Lord Russell, reminded to his face of the hard 
fate his son had met with. King James the Second, in his distresses in 1688, addressed 
himself to the Earl — " My lord, you are an honest man, have great credit, andean 
do me signal service." — "Ah, sir," replied the earl, "I am old and feeble ; I can do 
you but little service, but I once had a son that could have assisted you ; but he is 
no more." James was so struck with this reply, that he could not speak for some 
minutes. Introduction to Lady Russell's Letters, p. 73. 



LADY RACHEL RUSSELL. 157 

own door, the good lady drops no censure upon him ; and even after 
James the Second was no more king, but a wanderer in a foreign 
land, there is nothing like a triumph over him, or an intimation from 
her ladyship that she thought he was justly punished for his bloody 
crimes. 

Even the inhuman JefTeries himself, who distinguished himself by a 
flaming speech against Lord Russell at his trial, is passed over in si- 
lence by her, and she takes not the least notice of his disgrace, im- 
prisonment, and death in the Tower, owing, as it has been thought 
by some, to the blows he received while in the hands of an enraged 
populace.* 

In fact her ladyship's Letters discover a mind in close connexion 
with her God, or earnestly laboring to enjoy this inestimable blessing, 
and bleeding with the incurable wound she had felt in the loss of the 
best of friends and husbands ; but there are not the least traces of a 
sour or angry spirit against the unkind instruments that had brought 
such overwhelming sorrows upon her. 

It appears from some of her ladyship's Letters, that she was afflict- 
ed, some years after her lord's death, with great weakness or dim- 
ness of sight. " My eyes grow ill so fast," says she in one of her let- 
ters, I resolve to do nothing of this sort by candlelight."f And in 
another : "For the chat of the town I will not venture to hurt my 
eyes for it."| From this complaint we find her happily relieved, for 
on June 28, 1694, Archbishop Tillotston wrote to Doctor Burnet, 
Bishop of Salisbury, "That he could not forbear telling him that La- 
dy Russell's eye was couched yesterday morning with very good suc- 
cess.'^ From this time to her death, from what we can gather, she 
seems to have enjoyed her sight without any impediment, for her last 
two letters to the Earl of Gal way, written about the years 1717, or 
1718, appear, says the editor of her Letters, || by the largeness of 
the text to have been written without spectacles, as Lady Russell was 
sometimes accustomed to do in extreme old age. This circumstance of 
her disorder upon her eyes we the rather take notice of, that we may 
communicate to our readers the resignation she discovered even in 
the apprehension that she might shortly be deprived of the invaluable 
blessing of the light of the day. "While I can see at all," says she, 
writing to Doctor Fitzwilliam, 5th Nov. 1692,1T "I must do a little 
more than I can when God sees best that outward darkness shall fall 
upon me, which will deprive me of all society at a distance, which I 
esteem exceedingly profitable and pleasant ; but still I have full hope 
I shall rejoice in that he will not deny me his great grace to strength- 

* See Rapin's History of England, Vol. xii. p. 162, 8vo. edit. This historian adds, 
"never man had better deserved a public punishment, as an atonement for all the 
mischiefs done to his country, and for all the blood spilt by his means." 

t See her Letters, p. 289." t Ibid. p. 291. 

§ See her Letters, p. 304, in a marginal note. 

|| Ibid. p. 331. H Ibid. p. 293. 



158 MEMOIRS, &C. 



en me with might by his Spirit in the inner man. Then I shall walk 
in the right way until I reach the joys of eternal endurance. " 

And again, to the same friend :* — " Alas ! my bad eyes serve me 
now so little, that I could not read your papers, and tell you that I 
have done so, in one day. It is mortifying, yet I hope I do not re- 
pine, but, on the contrary, rejoice in the goodness of my God to me, 
that, when I feared the utter loss of sight, has let me thus long see 
the light, and by it given me time to prepare for that day of bodily 
darkness, which perhaps must soon overtake me." 

* See her Letters, p. 295. 



159 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY 



Mrs. Elizabeth Bury was born about the second of March, 
1644, at Clare, in the county of Suffolk, and was baptized the 
twelfth. Her father was Captain Adams Lawrence, of Lynton, in 
Cambridgeshire, a person of good character and great integrity. 
He died June 13, 1648. Her mother was Mrs. Elizabeth Cutts, 
daughter of Henry Cutts, Esquire, of Clare, a gentleman learned in 
the law, a great peace-maker among his neighbors, and a zealous 
promoter of the interest of the gospel. He died August 23, 1657, 
and his most eminently religious consort after him, August 5, 1667. 
His daughter, the mother of the subject of our Memoirs, was a re- 
markably serious, heavenly, and experienced Christian, an ornament 
to her family, a blessing to her children, and the delight of all her 
friends. She died full of grace and years, October 6, 1697, aged 78. 
Such were the truly respectable and heavenly roots whence Mrs. 
Bury sprung ! 

The freedom, ingenuousness, and pleasantness of Mrs. Bury 's tem- 
per, were ordinarily known to all who conversed with her. She 
never was reserved but when she thought her company was disagree- 
able, or she could profit herself more by her own thoughts than the 
discourse of others. 

She has been often taken notice of as a person of uncommon parts, 
ready thought, quick apprehension, and proper expression. She 
was always very inquisitive into the nature and reason of things, and 
greatly obliged to any that would give her information. 

In writing letters she had a great aptness and felicity of language, 
and was always thought so close and pertinent, and full to the pur- 
pose, and withal so serious, spiritual, and pungent, that her correspon- 
dence was greatly valued by some of the brightest minds, even in 
very distant countries. 

Her genius led her to the study of almost every thing ; and, hav- 
ing a fine understanding, accompanied with a very faithful and reten- 
tive memory, and taking a continual pleasure in reading and conver- 
sation, she soon became a proficient in whatever part of knowledge 
she was desirous to attain. 

She often entertained herself with philology, philosophy, and an- 
cient and modern history. Sometimes she diverted herself with mu- 
sic, vocal and instrumental ; sometimes with heraldry, the globes, 
and mathematics ; and sometimes with learning the French tongue, 
principally for the sake of conversing with French refugees, to whom 
she was an uncommon benefactress ; but she especially employed 
herself in perfecting her acquaintance with the Hebrew lan£iiagp ; 



160 MEMOIRS OF 

which by her long application and practice she had rendered so fa- 
miliar and easy to her, as frequently to quote the original in common 
conversation, when the true meaning of some particular texts depen- 
ded upon it. Very critical remarks upon the idioms and peculiarities 
of that language were found among her papers after her decease. 

Another study in which she took much pleasure was that of anato- 
my and medicine ; being led to it partly by her own ill health, and 
partly by a desire of being useful among her neighbors. In this 
branch of knowledge she improved so much, that many of the great 
masters of the faculty have been often startled, by her stating the 
most nice and difficult cases in such proper terms as could have 
been expected only from men of their own profession ; and they 
have often owned that she understood an human body, and the mate- 
ria medica, much better than most of her sex, with whom they had 
ever been acquainted. 

But however she diverted herself with these parts of her litera- 
ture, yet her constant favorite, and darling study was divinity, espe- 
cially the Holy Scriptures, having from her very childhood taken 
God's testimonies for the men of her counsel. In the latter part of 
her life she devoted most of her secret and leisure hours to the read- 
ing of Mr. Henry's Exposition of the Bible, whose volumes she 
would often say were the most plain, profitable, and pleasant books 
she ever read, and the last books, next to the Holy Scriptures, she 
would ever part with. She honored the author, for finding so much 
of God in him, and for speaking the case of her own heart better 
than she could speak it herself. He always surprised her with 
something new, and yet so natural, and of such necessary consequence, 
and unobserved by others, that she still read him with fresh gust and 
pleasure. Next to the Bible, her chief delight lay in reading prac- 
tical divinity ; and the plainer and closer, and more penetrating any 
author was, he was always the more acceptable to her. 

But notwithstanding all her knowledge, and unusual improvements 
in such a variety of learning, and her deep acquaintance with the 
spiritual and most interesting truths of religion, she would always con- 
fess and bewail her own ignorance, and that she knew little to what 
others did, or what she ought to have known in any of those matters. 

The certain time and particular means of her conversion she 
could not positively determine, but she thought that blessed event 
took place about the tenth year of her age. She had been under 
many convictions some years before, but she apprehended the ef- 
fectual work was not accomplished till that time ; but then she judged 
it was indeed performed, for though she had many suspicions and 
jealousies of her state towards God after that period, yet upon the 
most serious searches she concluded with herself that she had more 
ground for hope than fear. 

Her entrance upon a life of religion so young gave her many op- 
portunities of glorifying God, of doing much good to others, and of 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 1C1 

enjoying large experiences of the divine grace and faithfulness to- 
wards her : and from the benefit and comfort she found in early re- 
ligion herself, she always recommended it with much seriousness, af- 
fection, and importunity, to others. There was something very pe- 
culiar in the disposition of her mind, and turn of thought, that adapt- 
ed itself to the capacity, temper, genius, and relish of most children. 
Her first and principal attempt upon their tender minds, was to bring 
them in love with their Bibles, to teach them some short sentences 
and prayers, and the pleasant histories of the Scriptures, especially 
such as concerned children, and then to insinuate herself into their 
affections, and so instruct, persuade, and oblige them, by discoursing 
with them in their own phrase and dialect, as to render her company 
very acceptable and delightful to them ; and, by the grace of God, 
she by these methods was made very useful to many. 

Having set out thus early in the way to Sion herself, and allured 
and persuaded all she could into the same path, she held on her own 
heavenly course with great steadiness, resolution, and pleasure ; pro- 
ceeded from strength to strength ; and for the joy that was set before 
her, went before many of her fellow Christians. She thought it not 
enough to begin her work in the morning of life, but she diligently 
attended to it all the day. She was always aware of the vigilance of 
her spiritual enemies, and this kept her upon her watch. She would 
always say, " she had much to do, and that which must be done, and 
that she knew not how short her day would be, and therefore she had 
no time to lose." She often observed what was said of Jacob, that 
after he had met with God, "he gathered up his feet,"* and went his 
way ; and she thought that she herself ought to imitate his example. 

Having set out for heaven thus soon, and continuing her resolu- 
tions for God, and religion, and the eternal interests of her soul, she 
often considered with herself, and advised with others, upon the proper- 
est and most effectual means to promote and carry on her spiritual and 
pious designs, and at last determined upon this as one, to keep a daily 
memorial of what she did, which should be, as she expresses it, a wit- 
ness between God and her own soul. It cannot be ascertained when 
she began her Diary, but it is conjectured it was about the eighteenth 
or twentieth year of her age. In it both morning and evening she 
strictly observes, with very great beauty and happy variety of ex- 
pression, the most remarkable providences of God with respect to 
herself and others, and sometimes in the minutest circumstances of 
them — the solemn transactions between God and her own soul in 
her closet, in her family, in the sanctuary, and in her daily walk and 
converse with others — the substance of what she had read or heard 
that was most affecting in her present case, or might direct her future 



* What is rendered in our Translation, Gen. xxix. 1. "Jacob went on his jour- 
ney ;" in the original is, " He lifted up his feet ;" to which this good lady, who was 
acquainted with the Hebrew language, evidently refers. 

21 



162 MEMOIRS OF 

practice— her preparations for holy duties — the influences, impres- 
sions, assistance, withdrawings, and consolations of the Spirit of God 
in them — her daily infirmities, afflictions, supports, self-examinations, 
evidences, and foretastes of eternal life — her advances in religion, 
and her suspected decays — the matter of her prayers for herself and 
others, and the manner, time, and seasonableness of God's answers 
— the temper of her soul, especially on Sabbaths, and at sacraments, 
and on days of solemn fasting and humiliation, and thanksgiving, 
public, private, or secret, and on days she set apart for the trial of 
herself, and searches into her own soul — the various scenes of her 
life, and her comforts and exercises in each of them — her special re- 
marks upon days of mercy either to herself or family — the manner 
of her entrance upon a new year, &c. But it would be almost im- 
possible to enumerate the several heads and articles which make up 
her Diary. Enough, however, from the particulars that have been 
mentioned, may be said, to shew its pious nature, and excellent 
design. 

In this method she found singular advantage. She would often 
say, " that was it not for her Diary she should neither know what she 
was, or what she did, or what she had ;" and by recourse to it in all 
her afflictions, temptations, and surprises, she generally found great 
relief. Let her mind be never so much embarrassed, and the exer- 
cise of reason and grace never so much interrupted, yet the review 
of her former experience was an extraordinary help to future confi- 
dence, and thus was she brought again to her great rock, refuge, and 
rest, and recovered her usual cheerfulness. Hence also it was that 
she often recommended the keeping a diary to others, that so God 
might not lose the glory, nor they themselves the comfort of their 
lives. 

It was easy to observe a very lively impression of the image of 
God upon her soul, and the whole train of graces exhibited in a beau- 
tiful exercise through the whole course of her life and actions. 

Her humility shewed itself in her courteous carriage towards the 
poorest persons, and her conversation with them, especially where 
she thought she could have any advantage for doing good. When- 
ever she appeared before God, her Diary discovers how exceeding 
vile she was in her own eyes, and how much she abhorred herself by 
reason of the Lerna malorum* as she often calls it, which she found 
in her sinful nature, and which made her a burden to herself. She 
was also greatly humbled by observing the condescensions of divine 
grace under all her infirmities. " What grace, and such grace, to 
me. to " unworthy me, to vile ungrateful me !" There was nothing 
that so much affected her heart as the grace of God to such a sinner. 



* The infinity of sins, as this Latin proverb may be rendered. Lerna was a lake 
near Argos, in Peloponnesus, where Hercules slew the Hydra, or great water-snake, 
whose heads grew again as last as they were cut off. Hence Lerna malorum. 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. \&3 

Her patience was admirable under all ibe chastisements of her 
heavenly Father. She would often profess her unfeigned submission 
to all his discipline. " This," says she, " or any other method, Lord, 
to take away sin. This flesh shall bear it, and this spirit shall not 
repine at it. This is a part of thy covenant, and I am thankful for 
it. Thou hast done me good by afflictions, and wilt do me more, 
and therefore I will glory in them." Under the unkind treatment of 
some, whom she had studied to oblige to the utmost, and whose in- 
terests she had often espoused to the prejudice of her own, she mani- 
fested a very exemplary carriage, by keeping the possession of her 
mind, and rendering them good for all their evil. Indeed these trials 
stuck close to her, but, by the grace of God, she was superior to them 
all; she eyed God in all, and ever referred her cause to him. 

As to this world, she was very thankful to her divine Benefactor 
for the good provision he had made for her in it ; but she often pro- 
tested, "that she would never take it for her portion, since God had 
tendered heaven, and himself, to her." The cares, and incumbran- 
ces, and vexations, and especially the sinfulness of the world, had 
weaned her affections from it, and raised many restless and almost 
incessant cries for her deliverance out of it. She was never eleva- 
ted with its smiles, unless in thankfulness to God ; and never de- 
pressed by its frowns, unless she apprehended that sin was the cause. 
Her mind for the most part was equal in every state, because she 
was ever aspiring and longing after her heavenly country and inherit- 
ance. How often would she wish, " O for those realms of light, and 
love, and purity !" 

Her zeal for God was shewn by promoting his worship, and en- 
couraging every probable method for public service. She had the 
interest of God and religion much more at heart than any private or 
personal interest whatsoever. 

Her charity to the poor was known to many, especially to the 
household of faith, whether natives of her own country, or foreign- 
ers. She spared no pains, and grudged no expenses, in her state of 
widowhood, for carrying on her designs for the relief of destitute 
families exiled for the sake of religion, for erecting charity-schools 
for the education of the poor, for the maintenance of ministers, and 
candidates for the sacred office, and for a provision of Bibles, and 
practical books, to be distributed as she should see occasion. So 
many long and expensive journeys had she taken for promoting these 
charitable designs among her acquaintance, that she sometimes pleas- 
antly remarked upon herself, " that she had acted the part of a beg- 
gar so long, that she was now almost really one herself." She very 
much approved of every person's devoting a certain part of then- 
estates to pious and charitable uses ; " for then," says she, " they 
will not grudge to give out of a bag that is no longer their own." 
And as to such as had no children, she thought it was reasonable 
they should appropriate a fourth part of their nett profits or incomo 



164 MEMOIRS OF 

if they could allow it, as she herself did, to such valuable and neces- 
sary purposes. 

She considered walking with God in general as implying a living, 
as in his sight, in conformity to him, and in communion with him. 
She esteemed it requisite in walking with God that a person should 
be humble under a sense of his own vileness and the great conde- 
scension of his God to him, and that he should be close, and steady, 
and persevering, and lively, in opposition to sluggishness and melan- 
choly ; and her own practice very much corresponded with her right 
apprehension of the duty, for it is observable from her Diary that she 
lived in a daily awe of the omniscience of God, in holy meditation of 
him, in humble expectations from him, and in constant devotedness 
of herself entirely to him. 

She always began her day with God, by consecrating her first and 
freshest thoughts to him, that she might guard against vanity, tempta- 
tion, and worldly discomposures, and keep her heart in tune for the 
following duties of the day. She always accounted the morning not 
only a friend to the Muses, but also to the Graces, and found it the 
fittest time for the best services. She never, or very rarely, entered 
upon any worldly business till she had begun with God, and given the 
first-fruits of the day to him in her closet, by reading, meditation, 
and prayer, before the worship of the family, often urging on herself 
the words of the Psalmist, " My voice shalt thou hear in the morn- 
ing. O Lord, in the morning will I direct my prayer to thee, and 
will look up.*" 

When reading, singing, and prayer in the family were over, she 
constantly returned to her closet, and generally spent most of her 
morning there. She first lighted her lamp, as she expressed it, by 
reading the holy Scriptures, for the most part with Mr. Henry's An- 
notations. She diligently compared parallel texts, and took a great 
pleasure in reducing what she met with in the History of the Bible to 
its proper time. She then poured out her soul to God in prayer, 
with a constant regard to the intercession of Christ ; would often bit- 
terly bewail the wanderings of her heart in that duty, and plead cov- 
enant grace and faithfulness, and to finish her morning's work with 
some hymn of praise, and write down an account of all in her Diary. 

Through the rest of the day she walked with God, and carefully 
observed her goings, avoided the occasions of sin, watched over her 
heart, set a guard upon her lips, accustomed herself to holy confer- 
ence with others, and was frequently lifting up her heart in ejacula- 
tory prayers or praises upon any occurrence. When at any time 
she had been surprised by sin, she presently reflected, confessed, re- 
pented, had fresh recourse to the blood of Christ, and solemnly en- 
gaged herself to God for greater circumspection in the time to come. 



Psali 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 165 

In the evening, as early as she could, she called herself to an ac- 
count for all that had passed in the day, and again inserted the rec- 
ords of herself in her Diary. Having poured out her heart to God, 
and committed herself and her all to him, she then cheerfully joined 
in the devotions of the family. 

Though the people of God were always the people of her choice, 
she was often obliged to keep company with others. When she ex- 
pected to make a visit to any such, or to receive a visit from them, 
she frequently begged of God grace that she might order her con- 
versation aright, and that she might not be a partaker with others in 
their sins, but know how to reprove them, and that she might not suf- 
fer others to trifle away their time, but know how to employ them. 
She quickly observed the gifts and graces of others, and endeavored 
to draw them out to her own advantage. She always valued the 
conversation of ministers, physicians, and persons of reading and in- 
genuity, especially such as had the greatest savor of religion. 

She often visited the sick, and relieved the poor, and blessed God 
that she was in circumstances to give rather than to receive. When 
in her state of widowhood she had sometimes given to the last penny, 
through the delays of tenants in their payments, she often observes, 
that speedy supplies were sent in a very unexpected manner, as if 
giving to the poor were the readiest way to bring in the payment of 
her debts. 

Of all company there was none more offensive or painful to her 
than tatlers and talebearers. She could not forbear reproving them, 
and often frowned them out of her house. " She had business 
enough," she would say, " of her own, and therefore did not desire 
" to intermeddle with her neighbors." She durst not defame others, 
or take up an evil report against them, or countenance those who did. 
She was never more palled in conversation than in hearing what oth- 
ers did, and what they had, and what they said, what dresses were 
worn, what entertainments were given, what company were present, 
and what discourse passed among them, and therefore would often 
say, " How happy would it be if we might talk of things rather than 
of persons !" Both her own good sense and the power of religion 
carried her soul above such trifles and impertinencies, and they ra- 
ther gave her disgust than any degree of pleasure. 

Her worldly losses, especially in the latter part of her life, were 
many and very great ; but she would say, " the world is not my por- 
tion, and therefore these losses cannot be my ruin. I have all in 
God now, and shall have all this restored by one mean or another, if 
not to myself, yet to those who shall survive me, if God sees it good 
for us." She was frequently exercised with afflictions, even from 
her youth. The inclemency of the air, where her own estate lay, 
and many of her pious friends and relatives lived, often laid her un- 
der a necessity of removing to distant places. She was also no stran- 
ger to very sharp bodily disorders ; but, under extremity of pains in 



166 MEMOIRS OF 

her head or breast, her usual complaints, she ever submitted with ex- 
emplary patience and silence to the sovereign will of God, justifying 
him in his severest discipline, and often saying, " she would not for 
all the world but she had been afflicted." 

She set an high value upon her time, and especially on those sea- 
sons and opportunities in which the interest of her soul was so nearly 
concerned, and she thought she never could abound enough in that 
work which afforded her the greatest satisfaction. She would often 
say, " that she would not lose her morning hours with God, though 
she was sure to gain the whole world by it." She grudged that the 
poorest laborer should ever be found at his work before she was at 
hers. Even from her youth she agreed it with her servant, under 
great penalties upon herself, that she would rise every morning at 
four o'clock for her closet ; " which was her practice," says her bi- 
ographer and husband, " as I have been told, from the eleventh year 
of her age; and at five, to my own knowledge, if sickness or pain 
did not prevent her, for betwixt twenty and thirty of the last years of 
her life." " 

She carefully endeavored to improve the day, in company and 
conversation with her friends. She was always well furnished with 
matter for useful conversation, and could make very happy transitions 
from worldly to serious discourse. But yet she would often complain 
of the loss of much precious time in giving and receiving visits, and 
say, " she could not be satisfied with such a life, in which she could 
neither do good, nor receive good, but that she must keep to her clos- 
et, and her book." She often remarked in her Diary, " that she was 
entertained very kindly at such and such houses, but no good done 
to herself, or others." 

It was her frequent prayer, that affection might never bias her judg- 
ment, but that reason and religion might govern her in every state 
and change of life. 

Her first marriage was to Griffith Lloyd, Esquire, of Hemingford- 
Grey, in Huntingdonshire, on the first of February, 1667, in the 
twenty-third year of her age. He was a gentleman of good reputa- 
tion and estate, of great usefulness in his county, while he was in 
commission of the peace, and afterwards as a reconciler of differen- 
ces, and common patron of the oppressed. He was a person of a 
very active and generous spirit, of great piety, of a singularly good 
temper, and steady faithfulness to his friends. They lived together 
about fifteen years, to April 13, 1682, when death dissolved the near 
relation by removing him from our world. This worthy pair were 
such patterns of love and harmony, as to be taken notice of by all 
their neighbors ; and, if they were envied by some, they were gloried 
in by others, and especially by their own relations. 

Her second marriage was to the Rev. Samuel Bury, on May 29, 
1697, who appears to have been a very worthy and excellent minis- 
ter ; and who happily survived her, to communicate the Memorials 
of her for the instruction and benefit of the world. 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 1G7 

As to her relative duties she made great conscience of them, and 
was very exemplary in their observance. 

As a mistress and governess of a family, she was very careful in 
the choice of her servants, where she could have a choice. She was 
always afraid of strife aud contention in her family, lest she should 
be discomposed in her own spirit, and the common interest of reli- 
gion should be obstructed by intestine jars and disaffection. She 
never took any person into her service till she had solemnly prayed 
to, and pleaded with God, and submitted herself to his direction, 
Whenever she treated with any, she not only acquainted them with 
the business of their place, but also with the religious orders of the 
family, to which she had their explicit consent. When they were 
once admitted into her house, it was her first and constant care to 
inquire into the state of their souls, to instruct and catechise, to re- 
prove and encourage them ; to warn them of the snares and dangers 
of their age and place, and to enjoin them to take time for secret 
prayer, reading the Scriptures, meditation, and self-examination. 
She always charged it as a duty upon herself to discourse over with 
her servants every sermon they heard together, especially on Sab- 
baths, and to inculcate that upon them in a particular manner, in 
which she thought they were much concerned. She sometimes took 
an account of them together ; but at other times, when her strength 
and health would allow, she examined them singly and apart, that 
such who could remember but little, might not be discouraged by 
those that could do better, and that she might have a fairer opportu- 
nity of closer application to their particular state, as she saw occa- 
sion. By these means she became a servant to her servants, and 
she took pleasure in all her pains with them, though oftentimes to 
her own extreme faintness. Her servants themselves are witnesses 
what tender care she took of them in sickness, as well as in health ; 
and her Diary will abundantly prove how incessantly she prayed for 
them, and suited her prayers to the particular exigencies of their sev- 
eral states. Often does she there mourn over the unteachableness 
of some, melting into tears on their account, and lodging her appeals 
with God as to the sincerity of her endeavors to have done them 
good. And in her Diary also we shall find her rejoicing over others, 
that God had answered her prayers, blessed her instructions, and 
brought them under the bonds of the covenant, planted them in fam- 
ilies, and made them blessings there. " I cannot remember," says 
her husband, writing concerning her, " any servants that were ever 
brought under her care who had not learned something of the meth- 
od of a sermon before they left her ; and very many had their mem- 
ories improved so far, as to bring home all the particular heads, 
though numerous, of the two sermons on the Lord's-day. He adds, 
that when ever she inclined to part with a servant, she always con- 
sulted God in it, and that she would take the person into her closet, 
and very pathetically advise and teach a proper conduct of life, in 



168 MEMOIRS OF 

order that the servant might be acceptable in other families. " And 
such was the success," says her historian, " of these her religious 
methods, that I know not of any one servant she ever had but what 
was first or last under some awakenings of conscience, and spiritual 
convictions, and seeming resolutions for God and religion, however 
they wore off afterwards. It is common with some of them still, up- 
on every occasion, to speak of their mistress's care of them, and pray- 
ers for them, when the family was left with her, as in the necessary 
absence of others was frequently the case." 

If we view her in regard to her relations, we shall find her a con- 
stant sharer with them in all their joys and sorrows. A more sympa- 
thetic spirit is very rarely to be met with. She never ceased to pray 
for them as parts of herself. She often mourned for their sins and 
afflictions. She rejoiced in the piety of some, and longed after the 
conversion and return of others. When at a distance from her 
relatives she had a happy talent in writing to them ; and such were 
the pertinency, pathos and pungency of all her letters, that every one 
valued them, and was greatly pleased with them. When she was 
present with her relatives, she was ever feeling how the pulse of their 
souls beat, she ingratiated herself into their regard, and instilled some- 
thing proper into their minds, observing, persuading, warning, and 
directing, as she thought necessary. " She has an honorable testimo- 
ny," says Mr. Bury, " I believe in the consciences of all her relations, 
who respect her memory, and own her to be a pattern of great in- 
tegrity, piety, ingenuousness, and faithfulness. Her animadversion 
upon her friends, in the manner she used to do it, was so very far 
from offending them, that it was oftentimes very pleasing to them, 
and begat in them some awful regard to her person, and a true de- 
corum in their own lives. 5 * 

Besides her common concern for the good of all men, and her 
special regard to her family and relations, she would show upon all 
occasions, when her own health would allow it, a very compassionate 
concern for the sick and afflicted. Though in some cases it was 
very noisome and dangerous, yet she took a pleasure in visiting the 
sick, as it gave her an opportunity of inquiring into the state of their 
souls, and impressing upon their minds the concerns of religion, and 
improving the alarms of God upon their consciences for future watch- 
fulness and reformation. However matters appeared to her upon 
such private inquiries and conversation with any,, she would always 
afterwards bring their cases into her closet, spread them before the 
Lord, pray them over, and observe what answers were given to her 
supplications. How much knowledge and skill soever she attained in 
the practice of physic by long observation, conversation, and experi- 
ence, yet she was always very distrustful of herself in any chronical 
cases, and could hardly be persuaded to direct without better advice, 
till the poverty of her patients, and their great importunity, compel- 
led her to it. When God gave her success, she always acknowledged 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 169 

it with great thankfulness to him, that he should own so weak an in- 
strument for the peservation of human lives. The instances of such 
successes, in most places where she had lived, were not easily num- 
bered. 

She always called the Sabbath a delight, holy of the Lord, and 
honorable. She was very uneasy if worldly business was not dis- 
patched in time, that the Sabbath might be remembered before it 
came. She endeavored to awake with God, and possess her mind 
at first with proper thoughts, that might prepare her for the work 
that was to follow. She presently engaged in secret prayer, to be- 
speak the divine presence and assistance through the day. She 
then read and sang, as she had time, before family worship began. 
When that was over, she retired again to read, sing and pray ; and, 
as has been before observed, had a constant remembrance .of the 
minister, that God would grant him assistance, and success to his la- 
bors. As she was up early on the Sabbath, so she was not only al- 
ways out early, but her whole family with her ; not so much regard- 
ing the dressing of her own dinner as the advantage of her servants' 
souls. When public ordinances were over, she always withdrew for 
meditation : she next examined her servants, and inculcated upon 
them what they had heard, then she prayed in her closet before fam- 
ily worship, and after that filled up the spaces of the evening with 
spiritual and edifying discourses. 

She was never more pleased in any ordinance than that of singing, 
as she had a natural taste for music, and a good understanding and 
skill in it. But yet a concord of voices could not satisfy her without 
an agreement and harmony of heart with what was sung. Hence a 
severe remark upon herself in her Diary : "In such a place I was 
so charmed with the novelty and sweetness of the tune, that I had sung 
several lines before my heart was concerned in what I was doing." 

As to sacraments, she always shewed a most religious regard to 
them, in obedience to the precept, and in a sense of interest ; " and 
for twenty-three years together," says Mr. Bury, who was that time 
married to her, " I never knew her absent from one, if bodily illness 
did not prevent her." 

She was truly a praying person, and one who gave herself to pray- 
er ; and in the Scripture sense, she prayed always. She would of- 
ten say, " she would not be hired out of her closet for a thousand 
worlds." She never enjoyed such hours of pleasure, and such free 
and intimate communion with God, as she experienced there. She 
wondered how any persons could live without prayer, and deprive 
themselves of one of the greatest privileges that was ever vouchsafed 
to the children of men. 

Her gift in prayer was very extraordinary, as many have observ- 
ed, when the care of the family devolved upon her ; and as her ex- 
cellent husband and biographer observed, when upon some peculiar 
occasions they have prayed together in secret. " He has been struck 

22 



170 MEMOIRS OF 

as he declares, with wonder, at the freedom and aptness of her lan- 
guage ; at the warmth and vigor of her affections ; at her humble 
confidence in God ; and her strong expectations of blessings from 
him, when she poured out her soul to him in that duty." With satis- 
faction and cheerfulness she would leave all her own complaints, and 
all the difficulties, grievances, and distresses of others with her God, 
thus casting her burdens upon the Lord, and finding rest for her soul 
in him. 

She never determined any doubtful cases with respect to herself, 
her friends or her family, till she had first asked counsel of God, 
and then whatever she resolved in her closet, upon that direction she 
was always unalterably fixed. 

Many merciful returns of prayers she observes in her Diary. 
Sometimes God answered her upon her knees, while she was pray- 
ing, either in the recovery of the sick, whose lives were despaired of 
by others ; or in ease to the pained, when in their paroxysms and 
acutest agonies; or in comfort to the dejected, when under the gloom- 
iest apprehensions, and most afflicting confusions ; or in relief to the 
poor, when in the deepest distresses ; or in extinguishing the vio- 
lence of flames, when the towns where she lived had been in the 
greatest danger of being laid in ashes. In the last case, that of fire, 
she always retired upon the first alarm, "being incapable," as she 
used to say, " of giving any other assistance in that calamity than by 
prayer." At other times she observes in her Diary how long she 
waited for God's answers. " At such a time," she notes, " I prayed, 
and at such a time God graciously heard my prayer; and concludes, 
surely this was mercy worth praying and waiting for." She would 
often remark the seasonableness of the divine mercies, and how 
much better they were in God's time of giving them, than they 
would have been at the first time of her asking them ; and some- 
times she would very thankfully own the wisdom and goodness of God, 
when in the result of things she found she had prayed for what had 
not been honorable for God to give, and would have been hurtful to 
herself or others to receive. 

It is not to be told upon how many occasions she thus addressed 
herself to God, or how often she opened the treasures of grace by 
this key of prayer. It is most certain that an application to the 
throne of mercy was her daily refuge, and her daily relief in every 
distress. If she did not always obtain what she asked in temporals, 
she owns she had an equivalent, or better, and God fully satisfied her 
of the reasonableness of his denials. As to her trials and tempta- 
tions, she acknowledges with great gratitude to God, " that she had 
either present deliverances, or grace sufficient, for the most part, to 
resist, and power at last to overcome." 

The motto in her closet for many years, in Hebrew characters, 
was, " Thou, God, seest me ;"* hereby plainly intimating her aw- 



'*n Sk nnx * 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 171 

ful adoration of the omniscience of God, that her eye of faith 
should be always upon him, and that she would ever act under the 
influence of that persuasion, that God was present, whether in rea- 
ding, prayer, meditation, self inquiry, or in recording the solemn 
transactions that passed between him and her soul in her closet. 
She had this motto always before hei\ that as often as she entered 
into her closet, and as long as she continued there, and in every duty 
she performed, it might be a memorial to her, that every sin, and folly 
and instance of her departure from God, was perfectly known to him ; 
that every penitent confession, tear, and groan, were in his sight, 
and under his hearing ; and that every prayer, and purpose, and vow, 
and solemn obligation made, and renewed, and ratified in her closet, 
was sacred and awful, as under the eye and notice of an all seeing 
and heart searching God. This motto, she often found, had greatly 
restrained her from sin, had excited her to duty, had disposed her 
for comfortable communion with God, and kept her from trifling in 
the place of her sacred retirement. 

For some of the last years of this exemplary Christian's life, she 
found herself in a declining state, and was always wailing for her dis- 
mission. The clearness of her thought, the vigor of her mind, and 
the strength of her memory, continued to the last ; but, as she was 
often oppressed with bodily infirmities, and had many wearisome 
days and nights appointed her, she was the more desirous of entering 
into her eternal rest. And now, after a course of such eminent pi- 
ety, vigilant and daily preparation for death, and fervent desires for 
her dismission from the body, let us attend her to her closing scene. 

On the third of May, 1720, as she and Mr. Bury, her husband, 
had just entered into a friend's house, where they were to have 
dined, she was immediately struck with an exquisite pain in one of 
her ears, which presently caused such a deafness, as to render her 
unconversable : upon this she desired to withdraw, and went home. 
Her deafness continuing, a pleuritic fever soon followed, and, after 
that, a lethargy, which in part deprived her friends of that heavenly 
discourse they promised themselves they should have heard from her 
upon her death-bed. 

In former illnesses, when she herself, and every one else, thought 
her under the sentence of death, she was always so far above it, 
though she was naturally of a very timorous spirit, that she triumphed 
over it, and sang, " O death ! where is thy sting ? O grave ? where 
is thy victory ? thanks be to God, who gives me the victory, through 
our Lord Jesus Christ!" 

In this, her last illness, she had the same steadfast faith and strong 
consolations she had before experienced, but a more difficult passage 
out of life than what was expected. It was concluded, by her lam- 
entable groans for some days together, that her pains had been quite 
exquisite ; but when she was asked concerning herself, she generally 
answered, " I feel but little pain, only am restless." Her cold and 



172 MEMOIRS OF 

excessive sweats continued for many hours together, and were not 
more profuse in themselves, than affecting to others. 

Though the nature of her distemper prevented her from speaking- 
much, yet what she did speak was always rational and spiritual. Her 
mind was, not only calm and sedate, but very placid and cheerful, as 
oft as she awoke. — " O my God," said she, "I wait for thy salva- 
tion ! — This day I hope to be with Christ in paradise.— The prom- 
ises of God are all yea and amen in Christ Jesus ; and here my faith 
lays hold, and here it keeps its hold." 

On die 1 1th of May, she prayed her friends with much entreaty 
to detain her no longer by their prayers but to resign up her soul to 
God, " which," says Mr. Bury, " we did with as much earnestness 
as ever we had asked her life before. Such are God's ways to 
wean us from our dearest enjoyments in this world." About ten 
o'clock that night the prisoner was released from all her bonds, and 
obtained a glorious freedom. Her heaven-born soul took wing for 
the realms of light, and was bid welcome into the joy of her Lord. 

She had often made it her prayer to God that she might come off 
honorably in her last encounter, so that neither religion might be dis- 
credited, nor her friends discouraged by any thing that should then 
be observed in her : and, as God had abundantly answered so many 
of her prayers before, so he very graciously answered her in this re- 
quest, for such were the free and lively exercises of her faith and 
love, that they entirely triumphed over all fears, and carried her with 
a full sail into the port of glory ; and to the great comfort of her sur- 
viving friends she left this world at last " without either sigh, or groan, 
and with " the pleasantest smile that was ever observed in her coun- 
tenance before." 

Mr. Bury, her husband, who drew up an account of her life, has 
made a very large collection of excellent passages from her Diary. 
We must content ourselves with only some few extracts from what 
he has more diffusely communicated. To have published all that 
he has given to the world from her private papers, would have taken 
up more room in our volume than we could conveniently spare ; 
and on the other hand, to have entirely passed over such divine me- 
morials would have been withholding what may be both highly enter- 
taining and edifying to our pious readers. We have thought proper 
to select the following passages. 

1690, Sept. 27. When I was nine or ten years old 1 first began 
the work of self-examination, and begged the all-searching God to 
try, and discover me to myself; and I think I may date my conver- 
sion about that time. 

I have kept an account of my trials of myself since 1670; and 
though my undutiful, ungrateful returns have filled each examination 
svith just and bitter complaints ; yet upon twenty years' review, to 
the glory of free grace, I take it the case has stood thus with me : 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 173 

My judgment has esteemed God, even his holiness, the most desi- 
rable good, and I would be a partaker of his holiness, whatever it 
cost me, and I have generally been willing and thankful for the 
smartest discipline in hope of that desired effect, and I would still 
be more holy, though by sickness, pain, or any other affliction, hav- 
ing always accounted sin the greatest evil, and now for many years 
my bitterest affliction, though in some hurries I have not felt the 
most sensible mournings for it. 

As I have chosen God for my portion, so I stand by my choice, 
and rejoice in it above all the world ; and, through his grace assist- 
ing me, 1 resolve never to forsake him, though I die for it, which I 
shall never do without extraordinary aids, having no natural courage. 
I have chosen the path of God's precepts as the means to this end, 
and have deliberately, entirely, and joyfully given myself to Jesus 
Christ, the way, the truth and the life, and his love I prefer to all the 
world ; and by many sweet, though too short experiences, I have 
found his love lifting up my heart above all earthly enjoyments, and 
sometimes making it joyful under pain and trouble, which has hinted 
the power of his prevailing love, and made me hope it will cast out 
fears, if he calls me to martyrdom. 

My hope is in God through Christ ; and all 1 have I would part 
with rather than his love, and the interest I hope I have in it. 

My desires are after him above gold, health, friends, honor, &c. 
I long to have fuller communion with Father, Son, and Holy Spirit 
here, and the uninterrupted communion of heaven. 

My sorrow and anger are usually most intense against sin, though 
too violent torrents of them have been often spent on my sufferings. 

My hands, feet, head, and heart, follow not as I would. My life 
is stained and blotted with daily sins, yet God knows 1 loathe them. 
I find daily defects in my duties, yet I have a respect to all God's 
commandments. O wretched creature ! sin still dwells in me. I 
cannot do the things I would, but I would upon any terms be rid of 
sin. I sin daily, but I daily sorrow for, and hate sin, and fly to the 
fountain opened, which alone can cleanse me. 

I forsake and renounce the devil's dominion ; and as I have re- 
ceived the Lord Jesus Christ, so I watch, and pray, and strive to 
walk after his will, and holy example. 

The world gets near me, and about me, and I am too ready to 
follow and serve its pleasures and conveniences ; but it is more solid 
joy to my soul to say " that Christ is mine," than to be able to say, 
u this kingdom, this world, yea all that I ever loved, are mine." 

My own righteousness I abhor. The best, the most perfect, the 
most sincere service I ever did, or hope to do, gives me no hope of 
acceptance but in and through Christ. 

O Lord, Jehovah, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, thou art my por- 
tion. Whatever this flesh would have, Lord, let me be thine at anv 
rate. Truly I am, and would, and will be thy servant by choice 



174 MEMOIRS OF 

and consent, whatever thou givest me, or whatever thou deniest me. 

how bountifully has God dealt with me, while he has loved me 
from death to life ! 

Lord Jesus ! thou art my way to the Father ; my only Mediator. 

1 have accepted thee to teach and rule, as well as save my guilty 
soul. I cry as loud for purifying as for pacifying grace. I am will- 
ing to be kept from mine iniquity. I except no darling sin from 
thine iron rod. I ask no mercy for it, nor would shew it any. 

I approve and subscribe to all thy precepts, as holy, just, and good ; 
as best for me at all times, and in all conditions. Let my heart be 
searched, and I will love the word that searches it. I account thy 
law my liberty. Thou hast drawn, and I have run. Thou hast 
made thy word my love, delight, and study, and it is the sincere bent 
of my life to keep it. O that I might keep it to the end ! 

1692, February 19. Ashamed, and sad in the consideration of 
the- wonderful structure of my house of clay, inhabited by an immor- 
tal spirit, capable of reflection, &tc. yet both so long utterly useless to 
my Creator's glory, still so little answering the noble intentions to 
which body and soul were most wisely and righteously directed, yet 
adoring the divine bounty, pity, and patience, that pardon, adopt, and 
sanctify such an unworthy creature, 1 resigned body and soul entirely 
to him w 7 ho made them, begging a willing, happy dissolution. 

1692, March 20. Faint, yet pursuing; dull, yet adoring; im- 
pure, yet loathing; wandering, yet returning, going to the fountain 
opened to be purified from all sin. O that this day may begin my 
eternal Hallelujah ! 

1712, June 17, to July 9. In the evening (June 17,) about seven 
or eight o'clock, I was seized with a violent rigor upon my nerves, 
which lasted all night, and next morning a fever succeeded, which 
so much affected my head, that I was incapable of directing those 
about me what to do with me ; yet so graciously did God hear my 
daily and last supplication in secret, that I was willing rather to de- 
part, and be with Christ, and had not one cloud, doubt, or fear of 
death, through the whole sickness. The disease appeared desperate, 
and no hope of my life from human help remained. But my dear 
relations ceased not to pray, and call on others to join ; and many, 
from whom I expected not so great share of affection, were much 
enlarged in prayer for me ; and the Lord was entreated to spare a 
poor, sinful, unworthy, unprofitable creature, and say, Return ; while 
strong men bowed under the same disease, and fell down slain, 
though they had the same physicians, and had the same means used 
for them as myself. So, Father, it has seemed good in thy sight ! 
Thy will be done ! But what shall I render, what shall 1 do ? I am 
thankful for life. It is the gift of God. It is given in answer to 
prayer. But, Lord, if 1 improve it not for thy glory, how sad shall I 
be ? Thou knowest I had no desire to live but for better service ; and 
shall I be called from a seeming abundant entrance into glory, again 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 175 

to struggle with flesh and blood, the world, and the devil, and not be 
made more than conqueror through the Captain of my salvation ! O 
Lord, on thee, through thy assistance, did I cast my sinful soul, and 
diseased body, when I thought them parting asunder without any re- 
luctant thought, and shall I distrust thy power or love in what thou 
hast yet for me to do or suffer ? Strengthen my faith by this experience 
of thy power and goodness, for the sake of Jesus whom thou hearest 
always. 

Such is the style of this lady's Diary. Large is the collection 
which her husband has drawn from her Memoirs, and whence the 
above extracts have been made ; but yet Mr. Bury says, so copious 
is her Diary, " that it had been as easy to have collected many hun- 
dreds more of such like passages from her original manuscripts, 
would it not have swelled the volume he published concerning her 
beyond common use. " We shall only observe, that the same vein 
of piety and holiness, which flowed in such a full and strong current 
for such a number of years, abated not in the last months and days 
she spent on earth, but appears to have run on without interruption 
till she entered into her Master's joy ; for thus she writes in the four 
last months of her sojournment in our world : 

1720, January 1 and 2. I ended the last, and began the present 
year in the extremity of pain. After a long waking night, I could not 
fix my mind on any thing with comfort till past four in the morning, 
when I surrendered myself afresh to God, and begged healing for 
my diseased soul. I rose at six in much pain, entreated God to 
reconcile me to his discipline, and shew me wherefore he thus con- 
tends with me. Not long after I had some ease, and was carried in 
a chair to the house of God, where I gave thanks, and experienced 
a joyful day. Lord, pity, and heal my soul, and prepare me for glo- 
ry ! O make haste, my beloved, and end these days of sin and sorrow 
to a poor distressed worm, that longs to be with thee ! 

1720, February 21. Sweet entertainments! How excellent is 
thy loving-kindness, O Lord ! How gracious was thine assistance to 
thine ambassador in public, and to a poor worm in family- worship ! 

1720, March 6. I went out and heard the sermon in great pain, 
and renewed my solemn dedication to God, with firm resolution in 
his strength to acquiesce in his all-wise discipline as best for me, 
however grievous to my flesh. I returned in great torture, but with 
submission to the rod, though its strokes are very sharp. 

1720, April 18. The Lord has hitherto helped me under bodily 
infirmities. I pray, and hope, and wait, for his gracious aids under 
all my spiritual complaints and maladies. Thou, Lord, knowest my 
hunger and thirst for more righteousness, and thou hast said I shall be 
filled. (Matt. v. 6.) I rely on thee, O thou eternal Amen, and on thy 
power, compassion, and faithfulness for what I want, and am longing for. 

1720, May 1. (Two days before she was struck with her last 
sickness.) While I looked inward I was overwhelmned with sorrow 



176 MEMOIRS OF 

for the sad remainders of vain and evil thoughts, pride, selfishness, 
&c. which damped my joy and praise. O Lord, accept my broken 
heart, which thou hast said thou wouldst not despise. Teach me 
better how to rejoice and mourn together, and give me victory over 
my heart-sins. 

The husband and biographer of this excellent gentlewoman ac- 
quaints us, "that she wrote often to her intimate friends, and espe- 
cially to such as w T ere young, to persuade them of the reasonableness 
and benefit of the great duties of religion — to warn them against the 
temptations of their age and stations — to improve their education — to 
excite them to an early and exemplary piety — to confute their cavils 
— to impress upon them the obligation of their baptismal covenant — 
to satisfy their spiritual doubts, and encourage their hopes in God, 
and perseverance in their Christian course. The most of these," 
says Mr. Bury, " and the most considerable, are supposed to be in 
the hands of such whom they immediately concerned. Some part 
of the very few that are come to my knowledge since her death are 
these that follow." 

Out of this number we shall communicate only a part, and so con- 
clude our Memoirs of this eminently pious Christian. 

LETTER I. 

To a Parent on the Death of a Child. 

— I know your tender love to your children must make a wound 
in your heart, when you lose any : but I hope grace and long experi- 
ence of God's all-sufficiency, eternity, and the unchangeableness of 
his love and covenant, are better to you than your own or children's 
lives. The good assurance your daughter left behind her of her en- 
tering into immortal glory, has set her above our pity ; and as to our- 
selves, our short remaining moments here, and good hope through 
grace of being very soon with all our departed perfected friends, 
should greatly moderate our sorrows ; for why, for so short a time, 
should we be so much concerned whether we meet them next on 
earth, or in the heavenly mansions, since the last only can afford us 
that joy and pleasure which are without alloy or mixture ? If to hear 
that your children are well on earth rejoices you, why not to know 
any of them are well, and can never be otherwise, in heaven? 

LETTER II. 

On the death of an intimate Friend. 

— I came hither to close the eyes of my dear friend ; and since 
she might shine no longer among sinful worms here, I bless God, who 
brought me to her instructive death-bed, where faith, submission, pa- 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 177 

tience, and almost uninterrupted joy in breathing after her dear Re- 
deemer, more than equalled all I ever saw in one who lay so long in 
sight of the last ghastly enemy : and, though 1 cannot yet pray 
against sudden death, yet her steadfast hope and glorious conquest 
have given me more tolerable thoughts of languishing sickness, since 
in her I saw that neither the strength of pain, nor weakness of the 
patient, can hinder a triumphant exit, when God will make his joy 
our strength. 

LETTER III. 

Directions how to instruct a Child. 

— I am glad your brother can so prettily divert you. I wish 
you wisdom and love to instruct him. Be very watchful of his con- 
versation, and whatever you find faulty in him, shew him the evil of 
it, rather than charge him with it, lest you put him upon lying to hide 
his guilt. Let him see you love him before you chide him, and that 
you are ready to conceal or excuse his tolerable faults. Be very fre- 
quent, but not tedious, in your instructions. Often open the nature, 
and inculcate the necessity, of prayer for all we want, and the en- 
couraging promises of God that he will hear us. Lisp to your broth- 
er, in his own language, what he prays for by his form, and labor to 
excite in him a sense of his sad state by sin, greater desires after 
grace, and fuller resolutions and endeavors after the life and power 
of godliness. Let some part of his catechism be daily recited, and 
what he most imperfectly repeats, be said at his going to sleep, and 
at his first waking. Talk over the sermons you hear together in lan- 
guage adapted to his capacity, and fail not to beg of God a blessing 
upon all your labors, or else you will do little to the purpose. If God 
makes you instrumental in the conversion of your brothers and sisters, 
it will be a great honor and comfort, and produce the strongest un- 
ion among you. Take special care of them who are in the greatest 
danger. Imitate your godly, impartial mother, who, though she lov- 
ed all her children alike, yet would often say, " U she knew to which 
child she had conveyed most of her sinful nature, she would pity and 
endeavor the help of that child most." — 

LETTER IV. 

Cautions to a friend about marrying. 

— It is very odd, when you ask my opinion in the matter propo- 
sed, that you only give me an account of the gentleman's circum- 
stances, and not of his character. So far as I know, 1 must freely 
own that I fear the estate is loo great, and likely to prove a snare to 
you. Bishop Hall affirms, "that riches have made many worse, but 
never any better." I hope you would rather choose to be better than 

23 



178 MEMOIRS OF 

richer, and that you will never be biassed by an estate to an indiffer- 
ent choice. You know I have ever cautioned you, and I must cau- 
tion you still, against too great a fondness for wealth. Alas ! should 
you have it, how many things may embitter it to you ! Should you 
have a churlish Nabal, and you could only behold your riches with 
your eyes, and not be suffered to do any good with them, how uneasy 
would that be to your charitable, generous mind ! Or should your 
partner's temper be good, yet, if debts, or provision for younger chil- 
dren, should cripple a man's estate, it is but the name, and not the 
thing which you enjoy. But if neither of these disagreeables should 
happen, yet may not worse ? Supposing there is no piety, no warm 
devotion in your husband, but an aversion against your attendance on 
private altars, where you found more than all this world can afford 
you, what perplexity are you then tied to for life ! I know what troub- 
les you have met with ; but might you not, by avoiding present, 
plunge yourself into future difficulties ? It is better to be in distresses by 
necessity than by choice. What evil God inflicts is easier borne than 
that which we bring upon ourselves. Let me entreat you to moder- 
ate your desires after worldly grandeur. Pardon my freedom. If 
I am apt to be too jealous of you, it is because I love you. — 

LETTER V. 

On the Death of a good Lady and Friend. 

— I am heartily concerned for my own, and for the country's loss of 
that excellent lady, and condole with you especially who had the honor 
of her friendship, I believe as much as could consist with the ine- 
quality of your stations in this world ; and that the goodness of the de- 
ceased levelled more than is usual even in pious ladies. A friend, 
wise, godly, compassionate, secret, &c, is a rarity while it is enjoy- 
ed, and a loss seldom repaired in this world. But O what a friend is 
our dear Redeemer ! He is not limited to one, or a few, like our con- 
tracted minds, but condescends to the titles and offices of a friend to 
all his faithful followers. I am thankful for the tastes of his goodness 
in creature-friendship ; but in its utmost perfection it is but a faint 
shadow of that which is divine, and what I find in my eternal lover 
and friend the Lord Jesus Christ, whose friendship has not the dis- 
paragement which all creature-enjoyments have, of being but a short 
and uncertain pleasure. — 

LETTER VI. 

Unon the death of a Sister, 

I thought I could with less discomposure have parted with a sister 
than I find 1 can. I hoped that death would not have begun at the 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 179 

wrong end of the register book ; but they are seniors in the best sense, 
who have soonest done their work, and are first fit for glory. Though 
I could not have parted with a sister without tears to any distant 
country upon earth, though it had been to her advantage, yet reason 
would have blamed, and soon overcome such a fond and foolish pas- 
sion: and surely religion then should not only do no less, but even more, 
when my sister is in a far higher and happier preferment than all this 
world can pretend to offer. Our all-wise Creator first formed our 
bodies, and then inspired them, and when he is pleased to dissolve 
the compositum, it is not that either of the constituent parts should be 
destroyed : but the dissolution, as to the righteous, with regard to their 
souls is immediate glory ; and with regard to their bodies, but a refi- 
ning in order to a reunion. The forsaken mansion is indeed a mel- 
ancholy object, and it is very affecting to close the dear eyes that 
were wont to delight us with their silent rhetoric : but we more than 
water the body sown in dust, while we dim our prospect of the glo- 
ry of our friends who have died in the Lord. Why should I wish 
the soul in this body still, merely to say I have a sister in such a place ? 
What if heaven, where she is, is farther off? I am sure, as that is more 
suitable, so it ought to be nearer to my immortal part ; and may I not 
still have communion with her, and the glorious company she keeps, 
by loving, praising, admiring, and adoring the same God, though I am 
yet on earth ? May I not rejoice in the thoughts of meeting her among 
the spirits of the just made perfect ? Surely they have more courage, 
better success, or less difficulty, than I, who can wish the spiritual 
war protracted. — But she has passed the pikes. O happy soul ! her 
body indeed is sown in corruption, it cannot defend itself from worms, 
and is at present putrifying and loathsome, but it will not always be 
so. If the innate desires of reunion could not persuade me of a res- 
urrection, yet the infallible word of God has assured me of it, and 
that it shall arise, not as it was sown, a natural and sluggish body, 
but agile and sprightly, and fit to serve its superior and vigorous soul. 
It is a pleasure to me sometimes to think of the lustre and activity of 
glorified bodies, which rest not either day or night, nor suffer any de- 
cays, imperfections, pauses, or interruptions in their high and happy 
employments, but the greatest pleasure of all is to think of being for- 
ever with the Lord. — 

LETTER VII. 

To a friend under great Afflictions and spiritual Fears. 

— I cannot forget my promises of praying for you, and writing to 
you. I daily attempt the one, and wish I could perform it better; 
and as to the other, I should be glad if my pen could assist your 
faith and patience under the smarting rod of, I hope I may say, your 
heavenly Father ; for so it may be, though accompanied with angry 
frowns. It is true afflictions in themselves cannot be proofs of son- 



180 MEMOIRS OF 

ship ; but we are fully assured by the sacred Sriptures, that the sor- 
est trials are very consistent with that privilege. The experience of 
many of God's favorites confirms it. All the promises of support 
under, benefit by, and deliverance from such troubles, suppose it ; 
yet our souls are too apt to misconstrue fatherly chastisements for the 
revenges of an enemy, or to think there is more anger than love in 
them, and to murmur that they are so long and heavy. But the all- 
wise Father of spirits cannot mistake in measuring, timing, and ap- 
pointing his methods of healing souls. If guilt makes you fear his 
wrath rather than taste his love in your afflictions, you should cast 
your guilty soul upon him for promised rest, and may be well assured 
that God will not exact the debt from the offender and the surety too. 
Fly daily to that refuge, that sure hope, that justifying righteousness, 
and then you will find no fury in God, how grievous soever your af- 
flictions are. You have liberty to pray for pity and help as well as 
David, who, when he had aching bones, had a sense of guilt also, 
even of scandalous sins. If your own, or the cries of others for you 
seem to be yet unheard, it might be our mistake to urge for present 
ease without a due respect to future cure. Sin is the worst disease ; 
its cure is to be sought, though by the roughest methods. The chil- 
dren of God are agreed in this, and yet can scarce submit the means 
to the infallible Physician. Though we can trust a surgeon to apply 
a caustic, though oUapis infernalis, and let it lie his lime, if there be 
any hope of a cure ; yet how hardly can we submit, on higher reason, 
surer hope, or happier experience, to him, whose word of truth as- 
sures us that every thing he does shall do us good, and both purge 
away our sins, and make us partakers of his holiness ! I must confess 
these lines upbraid my own foolish choice oftentimes for myself and 
friends, but I pray and wait for better submission to the heaviest 
strokes, either on myself or them. — 

LETTER VIII. 

Various Dispensations of Providence argued and justified. 

— I have been long your debtor for a very kind and comfortable 
letter, which came seasonably to hand, as I was groaning under great 
pain, and sympathizing with others in bitter affliction. Since then, I 
bless God, [ have seen brighter days ; but clouds have returned aft- 
er rain upon others ; and may not all this, put together, commend 
the variegated dispensations of Providence ? Had all our days been 
halcyon, would they have been so safe or useful ? Had all been sa- 
ble, how disconsolate ! Were all the children in equal smart under 
the rod together, we should be too ready to make some unworthy re- 
flections on the all-wise discipline. Were not all alternately so, we 
should be ready to suspect their sonship. O the depth of wisdom, 
that poor shallow mortals can never fathom ! Yet how proud and 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURY. 181 

)eevish are we when any thing is denied, at our own time, which we 
ancy to be good for us ! Had I been always well and at ease, how 
shill a sympathy should I have had with the dear afflicted members 
)f Christ 1 Had you never been so, I had wanted your experimental 
consolations. Now if the brief hints of this beautiful variety in the 
lispensations of Providence can afford us such pleasure here, how 
)right and glorious, how sweet and ravishing will they appear when 
infolded in eternal glory ! And why should I be impatient of, or fear 
he darkest scene that shall end in the brightest glory ? Yet with 
>hame and sorrow I confess the fear of what I may feel has been as 
ifflictive to me as most I have felt, yea, when I have found a good 
iope of an interest in God, and after a thousand experiences of his 
lever-failing compassions confuting my guilty fears. This childish, 
>r rather unchildlike distemper, I think increases with years, and is 
Dartly occasioned by frequent and close converse with many of my 
superiors in grace under bitter afflictions living and dying ; and when 
[ see what is done to the green trees, I am apt to run into an excess 
}f fear what shall be done to the dry. Fain would I cherish an aw- 
ful, while I subdue a slavish fear ; but this I cannot do of myself, 
md therefore beg it of the God of all grace, in which I crave your 
assistance. 

Such are the threads (the above extracts of her Diary and Let- 
ters) of the mantle Mrs. Bury left behind her, when her spirit as- 
cended to the celestial glory : how rich and heavenly its texture, our 
readers will judge. 

We add a few lines of a Poem, which Dr. Watts wrote on the oc- 
casion. 

She must ascend : her treasure lies on high, 
And there her heart is. Bear her through the sky 
On wings of harmony, ye sons of light, 
And with surrounding shields protect her flight ; 
Teach her the wond'rous songs yourselves compose 
For your bright world ; she'll learn them as she goes ; 
The sense was known before ; those sacred themes 
The God, the Savior, and the flowing streams, 
That ting'd the cursed tree with blood divine, 
Purchas'd a heaven, and wash'd a world from sin : 
The beams, the bliss, the visions of that place, 
Where the whole Godhead shines in mildest grace, 
These are the notes for which your harps are strung, . 
These were the joy and labor of her tongue 
In our Dark regions ; these exalted strains 
Brought Paradise to earth, and sooth'd her pains. 
Souls made of pious harmony and love 
Can be no strangers to their work above. 



182 MEMOIRS, &C. 

But ne'er shall words, or lines, or colors paint 
Th' immortal passions of the expiring saint. 
What beams of joy, angelic airs, arise 
O'er her pale cheeks, and sparkle in her eyes, 
In that dark hour ! how all serene she lay 
Beneath the openings of celestial day ! 
Her soul retires from sense, refines from sin, 
While the descending glory wrought within, 
Then in a sacred calm resign'd her breath, 
And, as her eye-lids clos'd, she smil'd in death. 

O may some pious friend, who weeping stands 
Near my last pillow with uplifted hands, 
Or wipes the mortal dew from off my face, 
Witness such triumphs in my soul, and trace 
The dawn of glory in my dying mien, 
While on my lifeless lips such heavenly smiles are seen ! 



183 



QUEEN MARY II. 



MARY, QUEEN OF GREAT BRITAIN, WIFE OF KING WILLIAM THE THIRD. 



She was the daughter of James, Duke of York, afterwards King 
James the Second, and the Lady Anne Hyde, daughter of the Earl 
of Clarendon. They were privately married at Worcester House, 
September 5, 1660, by Dr. Joseph Crowcher, the duke's chaplain. 

She was born April, 30, 1662, and in the sixteenth year of her 
age was married at St. James's, November 4, 1677, to William, 
Prince of Orange, afterwards King William the Third. 

She appeared to be most happily disposed from her very birth. 
She was good and gentle, before she was capable of knowing that it 
was her duty to be so. This temper grew up with her in the whole 
progress of her childhood. She might need instruction, but she wan- 
ted no persuasion. And it is said, that she never once in the whole 
course of her education gave any occasion to reprove her. She 
went into every thing that was good, often before she knew it, and 
always after she once understood it. 

She was but growing out of childhood when she went among 
strangers, and removed from her own country to Holland ; but she 
went under the guard of so exact a conduct, and so much discretion, 
she expressed such a gentleness, access to her was so easy, and her 
deportment was so obliging, her life was such an example, and her 
charity was so free, that perhaps no age could furnish a parallel. 
Never were there such universal love and esteem paid to any as she 
received from persons of all ranks and conditions in the United Prov- 
inces. They were like transport and rapture. The veneration was 
so profound, that, how just soever it might be, it seemed rather ex- 
cessive. Neither her foreign birth, nor regal extraction, neither the 
diversity of interests or opinions, nor her want of power and treasure 
equal to her bounty, diminished the respect that was offered her, 
even from a people, whose constitution gave them naturally a jeal- 
ousy of too great a merit in those who are at the head of their gov- 
ernment. 

It may well be considered as a very happy event, not only to our 
country, but to Christendom itself, that the princess did not imbibe 
the popish religion, the religion sooner or later in life both of her fa- 
ther and her mother. She was a protestant upon principle ; and 
when her father, then upon the throne of Great Britain, wrote her a 
letter in favor of popery, she returned him an answer, drawn up by 



184 MEMOIRS OF 

herself, to the following purport. " She acquainted him, that she 
had taken much pains to be settled in religion ; that those of the 
Church of England who had instructed her, had freely laid before 
her that which was good in the Romish religion, that so, seeing the 
good and bad of both, she might judge impartially, according to 
the apostle's rule of proving all things and holding fast that which 
was good ; that though she had come young out of England, yet 
that she had not left behind her either the desire of being well in- 
formed, or the means for it ; that she had furnished herself with 
books, and had those about her who might clear any doubts to her ; 
that she saw clearly in the Scriptures that she must work out her own 
salvation with fear and trembling, and that she must not believe by 
the faith of another, but according as things appeared to herself; 
that it ought to be no prejudice against the Reformation, if many of 
them who professed led ill lives ; and if any of them lived ill, none 
of the principles of their religion allowed them in it ; that many of 
them led good lives, and that more might do it by the grace of God, 
but that there were many devotions in the Church of Rome, on which 
the Reformed could set no value. She acknowledged, that, if there 
was an infallibility in the church, all other controversies must fall to 
the ground ; but that she could never yet be informed where that infalli- 
bility was lodged, whether in the pope alone, or in a general council, 
or in both ; and she desired to know in whom the infallibility rested, 
when there were two or three popes at a time acting one against 
another with the assistance of councils, which they called general ; 
for at least the succession was then much disordered. She observ- 
ed, that as for the authority that is pretended to be given to St. Peter 
over the rest, that, that place which was chiefly alleged for it,* was 
otherwise interpreted by those of the Church of England, as importing 
only the confirmation of an apostle, when in answer to that question, 
' Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me?' He had by a triple confession 
washed off his triple denial ; that the words which the king had cited 
were spoken to (concerning) the other apostles, as well as to him;f 
that it was agreed by all, that the apostles were infallible, who were 
guided by God's Holy Spirit, but that, that gift, as well as many 
others, had ceased long ago ; that St. Peter had no authority over 
the rest of the apostles, or otherwise St. Paul, understood our Lord's 
words ill, who withstood St. Peter to his face, because he was 
to be blamed ; and she further took notice, that if St. Peter himself 
could not maintain that authority, she could not see how it could be 
given to his successors, whose bad lives had ill agreed with his doc- 
trine. She also alleged, that she did not see why the ill use that 
some made of the Scriptures ought to deprive others of them ; that 
it was true that all sects made use of them, and found something in 






Matt. xvi. IS. { Acts, xv. 28. 



QUEEN MARY II. 185 

them which they drew out to support their opinions, and yet, that 
for all this our Savior bade the Jews search the Scriptures ; and that 
St. Paul ordered his epistles to be read to all the saints in the chur- 
ches, and that in one place he says, ' I write as to wise men, judge 
what I say ;' and if they might judge an apostle, much more any 
other teacher. She likewise observed, ' that under the law of Mo- 
ses the Old Testament was to be read not only in the hearing of the 
scribes and the doctors of the law, but likewise in the hearing of the 
women and children ; and that, since God had made us reasonable 
creatures, it seemed necessary to employ our reason chiefly in the 
matters of the greatest concern ; that, though faith was above our 
reason, yet that it proposed nothing to us that was contradictory to 
it ; that every one ought to satisfy himself in these things, as our Sa- 
vior convinced Thomas, by making him thrust his own hand into the 
print of the nails, not leaving him to the testimony of the other 
apostles, who were already convinced. She added, that she was 
confident that, if the king would hear many of his own subjects, 
they would fully satisfy him as to all those prejudices that he had 
against the Reformation, in which nothing was acted tumultuously, 
but all was done according to law ; that the design of it was only to 
separate from the Romish Church, so far as it had separated from 
the primitive church, in which the Reformers had brought things to 
as great a perfection as those corrupt ages were capable of. 

" Thus, she concluded, she gave him the trouble of a long ac- 
count of the grounds upon which she was persuaded of the truth of 
her religion, in which she was so fully satisfied, that she trusted, by 
the grace of God, that she should spend the rest of her days in it, 
and that she was so well assured of the truth of our Savior's words, 
that she was confident the gates of hell should not prevail against it, 
but that he would be with it to the end of the world. All ended 
thus, that the religion she professed taught her, her duty to him, so that 
she should ever be his most obedient daughter and servant." Bishop 
Burnet tells us, that he set down very minutely every particular that 
was in those letters, that of the king, and this of the princess, and 
very nearly in the same words ; and adds, " That he had an high 
opinion of the princess' good understanding, and of her knowledge 
in these matters before he saw this letter, but that the letter surprised 
him, and gave him an astonishing joy, to see so young a person, all 
on the sudden, without consulting any one person, to be able to write 
so solid and learned a letter, in which she mixed with the respect 
which she had paid her father, so great a firmness, that by it she cut 
off all further treaty ; so that her repulsing the attack that the king 
had made upon her with so much resolution and force, let the popish 
party see that she understood her religion as well as loved it."* 



Burnet's History of his Own Time, Vol. II. p. 411—414. edit, of 1815. 

24 



186 MEMOIRS OF 

After the princess had lived several years in Holland, the orna- 
ment of her sex and station, upon the wonderful success of her hus- 
band the Prince of Orange, in his great enterprise to rescue our 
country from popery and slavery, both which were endeavored with 
his utmost power by James the Second her father, she ascended the 
throne of these realms in conjunction with her husband, at the joint 
invitation of both houses of parliament ; and they were accordingly 
proclaimed king and queen, February 13, 1668, to the great joy of 
the nation. 

In this step of hers, that might carry a face, which at first appear- 
ance seemed liable to censure, as her father was now king no more, 
and herself and husband reigned in his room, she weighed the rea- 
sons on which she went, with a caution and exactness that well be- 
came the importance of them, the bias lying still against that which, 
to vulgar minds, seemed to be her interest. She was convinced that 
the public good of mankind, the preservation of that religion which 
she was assured was the only true one, and those real extremities to 
which matters were driven, ought to supersede all other considera- 
tions. She had generous ideas of the liberty of human nature, and 
of the true ends of government; she thought it was designed to make 
mankind safe and happy, and not to raise the power of those into 
hands it was committed upon the ruins of property and liberty ; nor 
could she think that religion was to be delivered up to the humors of 
misguided princes, whose persuasion made them as cruel in imposing 
on their subjects the dictates of others, as they themselves were im- 
plicit in submitting to them ; but yet, after all, her inclinations lay so 
strong to the duty, that of honoring her father, which nature had put 
upon her, that she made a sacrifice of herself in accepting that high 
elevation of being queen of these realms, that perhaps was harder to 
her to bear than if she had been to be made a sacrifice in the severest 
sense. She saw that not only her own reputation might be eclipsed 
by her taking the throne, but that religion too might suffer in those 
reproaches which she must expect. These considerations were much 
more with her than crowns with all the lustres that adorn them ; but 
yet the saving whole nations determined her in the matter, as her ac- 
ceptance of the royal dignity was the only visible means left to pre- 
serve the Protestant Religion, not only in Great Britain, but every 
where beside. 

Though her mind discovered no tincture of enthusiasm, yet she 
could not avoid thinking that her preservation during her childhood 
in that flexibility of age and understanding, without so much as one 
single attempt made upon her, was to be ascribed to a special Provi- 
dence watching over her. To this she added her early deliverance 
from the danger of all temptations, and the advantages she enjoyed af- 
terwards to employ much privacy in so large a course of study, which 
had not been possible for her to have attained, if she had lived in the 
constant dissipation of a public court. These things concurring, con- 



QUEEN MARY II. 187 

vinced her that God had conducted her by an immediate hand, and 
that she was raised up to preserve that religion which was then every 
where in its last agonies; but yet when these and many other conside- 
rations, to which she had carefully attended, determined her to take 
the throne, nature still felt itself loaded. She bore her elevation with 
the outward appearances of satisfaction, because she thought it became 
her not to discourage others, or give them an occasion to believe that 
her uneasiness was of another nature than it really was, but in the 
whole matter she put a constraint upon herself, that is, upon her tem- 
per, (for no consideration whatsoever could have induced her to have 
forced her conscience,) that was more sensible and violent to her 
than any thing that could have been wished her by her most virulent 
enemies. 

Her sense of religion and duty not only operated in this great 
step of life, of such moment to herself, and benefit to the world, but 
the whole of her character and behavior abundantly evinced what an 
extraordinary piety and virtue possessed her soul. Her punctual 
exactness not only to public offices, but to her secret retirements, was 
so regular, that it was never put off in the greatest crowd of business, 
or little journeys ; for then, though the hour was anticipated, the duty 
was never neglected. She took care to be so early on these occa- 
sions, that she might never either quite forget, or very much shorten 
that devotion upon which she reckoned that the blessings of the 
whole day turned. She observed the Lord's day so religiously, that, 
besides her hours of retirement, she was constantly thrice a day in 
the public worship of God, and for a great part of the year four times 
a day, while she lived beyond sea. She was constant to her month- 
ly attendances at the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper, and withdrew 
herself more than ordinary in preparation for some days before them. 
In them, as well as in all the other parts of the worship of God, an 
uncommon seriousness ever appeared in her, without one glance al- 
lowed for observation. She spread a spirit of devotion among all 
who were about her, who could not see so much in her without being 
affected in something of the same manner themselves, though few 
attained to such a steady application as they beheld in her. In her 
demeanor in the house of God there was nothing theatrical, nothing 
given to show. Every thing was sincere as well as solemn, and gen- 
uine as well as majestic. 

Her attention to sermons was so entire, that as her eye never wan- 
dered from a good preacher, so she discovered no weariness at an 
indifferent one. When she was asked, how she could be so atten- 
tive to some sermons that fell remarkably below perfection, she would 
answer, " that she thought it did not become her by any part of her 
behavior to discourage, or so much as seem to dislike one, who was 
doing his best." The hardest censure that she passed upon the poor- 
est preachers was to say nothing to their advantage, for she never 
withheld her commendations from any who deserved them. She 



188 MEMOIRS OF 

was not content to be devout herself, but she strove to infuse the 
same temper into all who came near her, and chiefly into those whom 
she took into her more immediate care, whom she studied to form to 
religion with all the love and watchfulness of a mother. She charm- 
ed them with her instructions, and won them with her kindness. 
Never was mistress both feared and loved so entirely as she was. 
She dispersed good books of instruction to all who were around her, 
and gave frequent orders that they should be laid in places of attend- 
ance, that such as waited might not be condemned to idleness, but 
might profitably entertain themselves, while they were in their turns 
of service. 

The raising the reputation and authority of the clergy, as the chief 
mean for advancing religion, was that to which she intended to apply 
herself with the utmost diligence. She knew that the only true way 
to secure this point was to engage them to be exemplary in their lives, 
and abundant in their labors, to watch over their flocks, and to edify 
them by good preaching and diligent catechising. She was resolved 
to have the whole nation understand, that by these methods only, di- 
vines were to be recommended to favor and preferment. She made 
it visible that the steps were to be made by merit, and not by friend- 
ship and importunity. She charged those whom she trusted most in 
such matters to look out for the best men, and the best preachers, 
that they might be made known to her. She was under a real anxi- 
ety when church preferments, especially such as were most eminent, 
were to be disposed of. She reckoned that the disposition of them 
was one of the main branches of her care. When she apprehended 
that friendship might give a bias to those whom she allowed to speak 
to her on those heads, she told them of it with the authority that be- 
came her, and which they well deserved. She could deny the most 
earnest solicitations with a true firmness, when she thought the per- 
son for whom they were made did not merit them, for desert was 
superior with her to all other considerations. But when she denied 
applications of this sort, she did it with so much softness, and upon 
such good reason, that they who might be mortified by the repulse, 
were yet obliged to confess that she was in the right, even at the 
time, for the sake of a friend, they wished for once she had been in 
the wrong. 

It grieved her to hear in what a condition many of the churches 
in England were, which were sunk into such extreme poverty, that 
it was scarce possible, even by the help of a plurality, to find a sub- 
sistence in them. She had formed a design to bring them all to a 
just state of plenty, and to afford a due encouragement to ministers 
among them. But pluralities and non-residence, when not enforced 
by real necessity, were so odious to her, that she determined, to 
throw such perpetual disgraces upon them, as should oblige all per- 
sons to let go the hold they had gotten of these cures of souls, over 
whom they did not watch, and among whom they did not labor. In 



QUEEN MARY II. 189 

a full discourse upon this very subject, the day before she was seized 
with her fatal disease, she said, "She had no great hopes of rectify- 
ing matters, but that she was resolved to go on, and never suffer her- 
self to be discouraged, or lose heart. She would still try what could 
be done, and pursue her design, how slow, or insensible soever the 
progress might be." 

No intimation was ever let fall before her in any discourse that 
offered a probable mean of reformation which was lost by her, and 
she would call upon persons to turn the motion over and over again, 
till she had formed her own thoughts concerning it. It was amazing 
to see how well she understood such matters, and how zealous she 
was in promoting them. 

She rightly judged, that the true end of power, and the best ex- 
ercise of it, was to do good, and to make the world the better for it. 
She often said, that she found nothing in it to make it supportable, 
not to say pleasant, besides that consideration ; and she wondered 
that the true pleasure which accompanied it did not engage princes 
to pursue it more effectually. Without this she thought that a pri- 
vate life with moderate circumstances, was the happier as well as 
safer state. When reflections were once made before her of the 
sharpness of some historians, who had left very dishonorable imputa- 
tions on the memory of some princes, she answered, "That if those 
princes were truly such as their historians represented them, they had 
well deserved that treatment; and that others who tread in their steps 
might look for the same, for that truth would be told at last, and that 
with the more severity of style for being so long restrained. She 
observed, that it was a gentle suffering for such princes to be exposed 
to the world in their true colors, much below what others had suffered 
at their hands. She thought that all such sovereigns ought to read 
Procopius;* for how much soever he may have aggravated matters, 
and how unbecomingly soever he may have written, yet by such 
books they might see what would be probably said of themselves, 
when all terrors and restraints should fall off with their lives." She 
encouraged those whom she admitted to frequent access, to lay be- 
fore her all the occasions of doing good that might occur to their 
thoughts and was always well pleased when new opportunities were 
offered to her, in which she might exercise that which was the most 
esteemed by her of all her prerogatives. So desirous was she to 
know both how to correct what might be amiss, and to promote 
every good design, that she not only allowed of great freedom in 
bringing propositions of that kind to her, but she charged the con- 
sciences of some with a command to keep nothing of that nature 
from her, which they thought she ought to be acquainted with. Nor 
were such motions ever unacceptable to her, even when circumstan- 
ces made it impossible for her to put them in execution. 



* An historian who flourished Anno Doin. 530. 



190 MEMOIRS OF 

She was the delight of all who knew her, by the obliging tender- 
ness with which she treated all those who came near her. She 
made the afflictions of the unhappy easier to them, by the share she 
took in them, and the necessities of the miserable the more Support- 
able, by the relief she gave them. She was tender of those who 
deserved her favor, and compassionate to those who wanted her pity. 
It was easy for her to reward, for all sorts of bounty came readily 
from her hands ; but it was hard for her to punish, except when the 
nature of the crime made mercy become a cruelty, and then she was 
inflexible not only to importunity, but to the tenderness of her own 
disposition. 

Her bounty and her compassion had great matter given them upon 
which to exert themselves. And how wide soever her sphere may 
have been, she rather went beyond than confined herself within it. 
Those worthy confessors and exiles, whom the persecution of France 
sent over hither, as well as to the United Provinces, felt the tender- 
ness as well as the munificence of the welcome she gave them. The 
confusions of Ireland drove over multitudes of all ranks, who fled 
hither for shelter, and were soon reduced to great straits from a state 
of as great plenty. Most of these, by her means, were both sup- 
ported during their stay, and enabled to return home after the storm 
was over. The largeness of the supplies that were given, and the 
tender manner of giving them, made their exile both the shorter and 
the more tolerable. The miserable among ourselves, particularly 
those who suffered by the accidents of war, found a relief in her 
that was easily obtained, and was copiously furnished. She would 
never limit any from laying proper objects for her charity in her way, 
nor confine that care to the ministers who were her almoners. She 
encouraged all about her, or who had free access to her, to acquaint 
her with the necessities under which persons of true merit might lan- 
guish. And she never was uneasy at applications of that kind, nor 
was her hand ever scanty, when the person was worthy, or the ex- 
tremity great. She was regular and exact in this her bounty. She 
found that even a royal treasure, though dispensed by an hand that 
was yet more royal, could not answer all demands; for which reason 
she took care to have a just account both of the worthiness and the 
necessities of those who were candidates for her liberality, and in 
the conducting of her charity shewed as great an exactness, and as 
attentive a regard, as much memory, and as much diligence, as if she 
had no cares of a higher nature lying upon her. But what crowned 
all, was her exact conformity to the rule of the gospel in her munifi- 
cence, so that none knew to whom, or what she gave, but those whom 
she was forced to employ in the communication of her bounty. 
When it was to fall on persons who had access to her, her own hand 
was the conveyance. What went through other hands was charged 
on them with an injunction of secrecy; and she herself was so far 
from speaking of her charities, that, when some persons were men- 



QUEEN MARY II. 191 

tioned as objects, who had been already named by others, and re- 
lieved by herself, she would not let those who spake to her under- 
stand any thing that had been done ; but either she let the matter 
pass over in silence, or, if the necessity was represented as heavier 
than she had apprehended it, a new supply was given without so 
much as an hint of what had gone before. 

The piety of this excellent person, as it was a noble support to her 
under some kinds of trouble, so it gave the sharper edge to others. 
The deep sense she had of the judgments that seemed to be hang- 
ing over the nation, often broke out in many sad strains to those to 
whom she gave a free vent to her thoughts. The impieties and blas- 
phemies, the open contempt of religion, and the scorn of virtue, 
which she heard of from so many hands, and in so many different 
parts of the nation, gave her a secret horror, and presented her with 
such a black prospect, as filled her with melancholy reflections. 
She was the more sensibly touched, when at any time she heard that 
some, who pretended to much zeal for the Crown and the Revolu- 
tion, seemed thence to think they had some sort of right to be indul- 
ged in their licentiousness and irregularities. She often said, "Can 
a blessing be expected from such hands, or on any thing that must 
pass through them ?" She longed to see a set of men of uprightness 
and probity, of generous tempers, and public spirits, in whose hands 
the concerns of the crown and people might be lodged with reason- 
able hopes of success, and a blessing from heaven on their services. 
She had a just esteem of all persons whom she found truly religious 
and virtuous ; nor could any other considerations weigh much with 
her, when these excellencies were not to be found. Next to open 
impiety, the want of heat and life in those who pretended to religion^ 
and the deadness and disunion of the protestants in general, very 
sensibly affected her; and she often said, with feeling and cutting 
regret, " Can such dry bones live ?" When she heard what crying 
sins abounded in our fleets and armies, she gave such directions as 
seemed practicable, to those who she thought might in some meas- 
ure correct them ; and she gave some in very eminent stations to un- 
derstand, that nothing could both gratify, and even oblige her more, 
than that care should be taken to stop those growing disorders, and 
to reduce things to the seriousness and sobriety of former times. The 
last great project that her thoughts were working upon, with relation 
to a noble and royal provision for maimed and decayed seamen, was 
particularly designed to be so constituted, as to put them in a proba- 
ble way of concluding their days in the fear of God. It gave her a 
sensible concern to hear that Ireland was scarce emerged from its 
abyss of miseries, before it was returning to the levities, and even to 
the abominations of former times. She took particular methods to 
be well informed of the state of our plantations, and of those colonies 
that we have among infidels. But it was no small grief to her to 
hear, that those colonies were but too generally a reproach to the re- 



192 • MEMOIRS OF 

ligion by which they were named. She gave a willing ear to a prop- 
osition that was made for erecting schools, and the founding of a col- 
lege among them. She considered the whole scheme of it, and the 
endowment which was desired for it. It was a noble one, and was 
to rise out of some branches of the revenue, which made it liable to 
objections : but she took care to consider the whole matter so well, 
that she herself answered all objections, and espoused it with such 
an affectionate concern, that she digested and prepared it for the 
king ; and as she knew how large a share of zeal his majesty had for 
good projects, she took care also to give him the largest share of the 
honor of them ; nor, indeed, could any thing inflame her more than 
the prospect of advancing religion, especially where there were hopes 
of working upon infidels. 

Her concern and charity were not limited to that which might 
seem to be her peculiar province, and was more especially put un- 
der her care. The foreign churches had also a liberal share of her 
regard and munificence. She was not insensible of the kindness of 
the Dutch. She remembered it always with a tender gratitude, and 
was heartily touched with their interests. The refugees of France 
were considered by her as those whom God had sent to sit safe un- 
der her shadow, and to be made easy through her favor. Those 
scattered remains of our protestant brethren, that had been hunted 
out of their vallies in Piedmont, were again brought together by their 
majesties' means. It was the king's powerful intercession that re- 
stored them to their seats as well as to their edicts ; and it was the 
queen's charity that formed them into bodies, and opened the way 
for their enjoying those advantages, and transmitting them down to 
succeeding ages. She took care also for preserving the little that 
was left of the Bohemian churches. She formed nurseries of reli- 
gion in some of those parts of Germany which were exhausted by 
war, and were disabled from carrying on the education of their youth, 
that they might secure to the next age the faith which they themselves 
professed. 

If we consider the subject of our memoirs more particularly as a 
queen, and sometimes at the head of government, we shall be struck 
with admiration, and shall behold her on a summit of greatness, in 
which she appeared with the highest glory to herself, and the great- 
est benefit to her people. She was punctual to her hours, patient in 
her audiences, gentle in commanding, prudent in speaking, cautious 
in promising, soft in reprehending, ready in rewarding, and diligent 
in ordering, and she had an ear open to all that was suggested to her. 
That there might be a fulness of leisure for every thing, the day was 
early begun. Nothing was done in haste. There were no appear- 
ances of hurry or impatience. Her devotions, both private and pub- 
lic, were not shortened, and yet she found time enough for keeping 
up the cheerfulness of a court, and the admission of all persons to 
her, whom it was proper for her to receive. She was not so entirely 
possessed by the greatest cares that she forgot the smallest. 



QUEEN MARY II. 193 

If any thing was ever found in her that might seem to fall too low, 
it was that her humility and modesty really depressed her too much 
in her own eyes, and that she might too soon he made to think that 
the reasons which were offered to her hy others were better than her 
own. But this diffidence only took place in those matters in which 
the want of practice might make a modest distrust seem more reason- 
able, and when she saw nothing in what was before in which con- 
science had any share, for whensoever that appeared, she was firm 
and immoveable. 

Her administration of public affairs had a peculiar felicity attend- 
ing it. There was something in her that disarmed many of her ene- 
mies. When they came near her, they were soon conquered by her ; 
while the wisdom and secrecy of her conduct defeated the designs of 
such of her adversaries as were restless and implacable. The na- 
tion seemed once, while she was at the helm, to be much exposed. 
Unprosperous events at sea afforded the French the appearance of a 
triumph. They lay along the British coasts, and were sometime 
masters of the British seas. But a secret guard seemed to environ 
our country. All the harm our enemies did us, except in one in- 
stance of barbarity,* which might shew what our general treatment 
might probably have been, if we had become their prey, was 
but small, and seemed rather permitted by Heaven to unite the na- 
tion against them. The people lost no courage by it. Their zeal 
was the more inflamed. This was the queen's first essay of govern- 
ment ; in which she, who upon ordinary occasions was not out of 
countenance to own a fear that did not misbecome her, now, when a 
visible danger threatened her, shewed a firmness of mind, and com- 
posure of behavior, that made even men of the greatest courage 
ashamed of themselves. She covered the inward apprehensions she 
had, with such an equality of conduct, that she seemed afraid of 
nothing, when she had reason to fear the worst that could happen. 
She was resolved, if things should have proceeded to extremities, to 
have ventured herself with her people, and either to have saved 
them, or to have perished with them. 

This was such a beginning of the exercise of royal power, as 
might for ever have given her a disgust of it: but she appeared all 
the time to possess her soul in patience, and to live in a constant re- 



* The French fleet ('ays Bishop Burnet, History of his Own Time, Vol. iii. p. 69, 
edit. 1SI5, after he had related the unsuccessful engagement oar fleet had with it 
near Beachy, in the year 1690) lay for some davs in Torbay ; hut before 

tbey sailed they made a descent on a miserable village called Tinmouth, that hap- 
pened to be! rogto a papist. They burnt it, and a few fisherbdats that belonged to 
it, but the : la a body of militia vfcas marching thither, the 

French ma. Is great haste bank to their ships. The French published this in their 
gazettes with much pomp, as if it had boon a great trading town, that had many 
ships, with some men of war in port. This both rendered them ridiculous, and 
served to raise the hatred of the nation against them, for every town on the coast saw 
what they must expect if the French should prevail. 

25 



194 MEMOIRS OF 

signation of herself to the will of God, without any anxiety concern- 
ing events. The happy news of the signal victory at the Boyne, 
where King James's army was routed by King William's, and the 
preservation of his majesty's person from the surest instruments of 
death, which seemed to be sent with that direction that it might shew 
the immediate watchfulness of Providence about him, soon reversed 
the scene, and put another face on public affairs. The queen only 
seemed the least changed. She looked more cheerful, but with the 
same tranquility. The appearances of it had never left her. Nor 
was it a small addition to her joy, that her father, for whom she still 
retained profound regard, was preserved.* Though she was no part 
of the cause of the war, yet she would have willingly sacrificed her own 
life to have preserved either of those lives (her husband's or father's,) 
who were in danger. She spoke of that matter two days after the 
intelligence came, with so tender a sense of the goodness of God to 
her, that it drew tears from her eyes, and then she freely confessed, 
" that her heart had trembled, not so much from the apprehension of 
the danger that she herself was in, as from the scene that was then in 
action at the Boyne ; that God had heard her prayers, and she bles- 
sed him for it, with as sensible a joy as for any thing that had ever 
happened to her." 

The next season of her administration concluded the reduction of 
Ireland. The expectations of success there were once so much sunk, 
that it seemed that that island was to be yet, for another year, the field 
of blood, and an heap of ashes. The good queen laid the blame of 
this, in a great measure, on the licentiousness and other disorders 
that she heard had rather increased than abated among them. A 
sudden turn came from a bold, but necessary resolution, which was 
executed as gallantly as it was generously undertaken, and in the 
face of a great army ; a handful of men passed the river Shannon, 
forced Athlone, and made the enemy to retire in haste. A great 
victory followed a few days after, that of General Ginkle over St. 
Ruth, at Agrem. From which time success was less doubtful. All 
was concluded with the happy reduction of the whole island. The 
reflections the queen made on this happy event, was of the same tinc- 
ture with that of all her thoughts, namely, " that our forces else- 
where, both at sea and land, were thought to be considerable, and 
so promising, that we were in great hopes of somewhat that might be 
decisive, only Ireland was apprehended to be too weakly furnished 
for a concluding campaign ; yet so different," said she, "are the 



* The Earl of Nottingham told me, that when he carried the news to the queen, 
and acquainted her in a few words that the king was well, that he had gained an 
entire victory, and that the late king had escaped, he observed her looks, and found 
that the last article made her joy complete, which seemed in some suspense, till 
she understood that.— BurneV s History of his Own Time, Vol. ill. p. 70, edit. 1815, 



QUEEN MARY II. 195 

methods of Providence from human expectations, that nothing me- 
morable happened any where except in Ireland, where little or noth- 
ing was expected." 

She was again in the administration of affairs when the nation was 
threatened with a descent and an invasion, which was conducted with 
that secrecy that the kingdom was in danger of being surprised by it, 
when the preparations at sea were not finished, and the force by land 
was not considerable. The struggle was like to have been formida- 
ble, and there was a particular violence to be done to herself by rea- 
son of him, her father who was to have conducted it. A long unin- 
terrupted continuance of boisterous weather, that came from the 
point that was most contrary to the designs of our enemies, made 
the project impracticable. A succession of changes of weather fol- 
lowed after, as happily to ourselves, and as fatal to our foes. The 
same wind that stopped their fleet joined ours. The wind went not 
out of that direction till it ended in one of the most glorious actions 
that England ever saw ; that of the victory over the French fleet, by 
Admiral Russell, at La Hogue, in the year 1692, when those, who 
were brought together to invade our kingdom, were forced to be the 
melancholy spectators of the destruction of the best part of their 
fleet, on which all their hope was placed. 

The queen bore success with the same decency in which she ap- 
peared, when affairs were perplexed and clouded. So firm a situa- 
tion of mind as she had, seemed to be in a good measure above the 
power of any events whatever. 

So far was she from entertaining a high opinion of herself, that 
she had a tender sense of every thing that looked like miscarriage un- 
der her conduct, and was afraid lest some mistake of hers might 
have occasioned it. When difficulties grew too great to be surmount- 
ed, and she felt an uneasiness in them, she made God her refuge, 
and she often owned that she found a full calm upon her thoughts, 
after she had given them a free vent before him in prayer. 

When melancholy events came from the immediate hand of Heav- 
en, particularly a great loss at sea, she said, "That though there was 
no occasion for complaint or anger upon these cross events, yet there 
was a juster cause of grief, since God's hand was to be seen so par- 
ticularly in them." Sometimes she feared there might be some se- 
cret sins at the root, and blast all ; but she soon went off from that, 
and said, " that where so much was visible, there was no need of di- 
vination concerning that which might be hidden." 

When the sky grewer clearer, and in her more prosperous days, 
as we have before observed, she was never lifted up. A great reso- 
lution was taken, which not only asserted a dominion over those seas 
which Great Britian claimed as her own, but assumed a more ex- 
tensive empire, by our becoming masters both of the ocean and Med- 
iterranean, having our enemies' coasts as well as the seas open to us. 
The queen had too tender an heart to take any real satisfaction in the 



196 MEMOIRS OF 

destruction of any of her enemies' towns, or in the ruin of their poor 
and innocent inhabitants. She spake of such proceedings with true 
indignation against those who had begun such practices, even in full 
peace, or after protections had been given. She was sorry that the 
state of war had made it necessary to restrain another prince from 
such barbarities, by making himself feel the effects of them, and 
therefore she said, " She hoped that such practices should become 
so odious in all that should begin them, and by their doing so force 
others to retaliate, that for the future they should be forever laid 
aside." 

In her brightest seasons she grew not secure, nor did she withdraw 
her dependence upon God. In all the pleasures of life she maintain- 
ed a true indifference as to the continuation of them, and she seemed 
to think of parting with them in so easy a manner, that it plainly 
appeared how little possession they had got of her heart. She 
had no occasion for these thoughts from any other principle but a 
mere disgust of this life, and the aspiration of her soul to a better. 
She apprehended she felt once or twice such indispositions upon her, 
that she concluded nature was working toward some great sickness, 
and accordingly she set herself to take full and broad views of death, 
that hence she might judge how she should be able to encounter her 
enemy. But she found so quiet an indifference upon the prospect, 
leaning rather toward the desire of a dissolution, that she said, 
" Though she did not pray for death, yet she could neither wish nor 
pray against it. She left that before God, and referred herself to 
the disposal of Providence. If she did not wish for death, yet she 
did not fear it." 

As this was her temper when she viewed death at some distance, 
so she maintained the same calm when in the closest struggle with it. 
In her sickness, that of the small pox, she only was serene, when all 
was in a storm about her. The dismal sighs of all who came near 
her could not discompose her. She was rising so fast above mortali- 
ty, that even her husband, who was more to her than all the world 
besides, and rb all whose thoughts she had been upon every other oc- 
casion entirely resigned, could not now inspire her with any desires 
of returning back to life. Her mind seemed to be disentangling it- 
self from her body, and so she arose above that tenderness, that had 
a greater influence upon her than all other earthly things whatever. 
It seemed indeed that all that was mortal was falling off, when even 
that could give her no uneasiness. She received the intimations of 
approaching death, with a firmness that neither bent nor softened un- 
der that which has made the strongest minds tremble. Then, when 
even the most artificial grow sincere, when the mask of hypocrisy 
drops and opens the full soul to view, it appeared what a perfect 
calm, and how sublime a piety possessed her. A ready willingness 
to be dissolved, and an entire resignation to the will of God, did not 
seem to forsake her so much as one minute, nor had any thing been 



QUEEN MARY II. 197 

left to be dispatched by her in her last hours. Her mind was in no 
hurry, but soft as the small voice that seemed to be calling her soul 
away to the regions above. So that she made her last steps with a 
stability and seriousness that, how little ordinary soever they might be, 
were, indeed, the correspondent harmonious conclusions of such a 
life as she had led. In her heavy disease she felt no inward depres- 
sion, nor sinking of nature. She then declared, " that she experien- 
ced the joy of a good conscience, and the powers of religion giving 
her supports, which even the last agonies could not shake." Her 
constant gentleness to all about her never left her. That was indeed 
natural to her ; but by its continuance with her in her sickness, all 
visibly perceived that nothing could put her mind out of its natural 
situation, and usual state. A few hours before she breathed her last, 
when he who ministered to her in the best things had continued in a 
long attendance about her, she was so free in her thoughts, that appre- 
hending he might be weary, she commanded him to sit down, and re- 
peated her orders till he obeyed them : a thing too trifling in itself to 
be mentioned, but that it discovered her presence of mind, as well as 
the sweetness of her disposition. Prayer was then her constant ex- 
ercise, as often as she was awake : and so sensible was the refresh- 
ment that her mind found in it, that she said she thought it did her 
more good, and gave her more ease, than any thing that was done to 
her. Nature sunk apace. She received the blessed Sacrament 
with a devotion that inflamed as well as melted all who saw it. That 
being over, she gave up herself so entirely to meditation, that she 
seemed scarce to regard any thing beside. She was then upon the 
wing. Such was her peace in her latter end, that though the symp- 
toms shewed that nature was much oppressed, yet she scarce felt any 
uneasiness. It was only from what she perceived was done to her, 
and from those intimations that were given her, that she judged her 
life to be in danger ; but she scarce knew herself to be sick by any 
thing that she felt at heart. Her bearing so much sickness with so 
little emotion, was for a while imputed to that undisturbed quiet and 
patience in which she possessed her soul. But when she repeated it 
so often that she felt herself well inwardly, it then appeared that there 
was a particular blessing in so easy a conclusion of a life, that had 
been led through a great variety of events, with a constant equality of 
temper. And thus this most excellent princess put off mortality, and 
passed from an earthly to a heavenly crown, a crown of glory that 
shall never fade away. 

The above account of this most amiable woman, is in substance 
extracted from Bishop's Burnet's Essay on her Memory, who had 
more than common advantages of knowing her, first in Holland, and 
afterwards in England, who has not been reckoned an historian by 
any means redundant in his praises, and who declares that he said 
nothing but what he knew to be strictly true, without the enlargement 
of figure or rhetoric. That we might do full justice to the character 



198 MEMOIRS OF 

of the queen, or at least make our best attempts for the purpose, we 
shall collect from the same writer, — from Dr. Edward Fowler, 
Bishop of Gloucester, and from Dr. William Bates, an eminent non- 
conformist minister, who preached a sermon on her death, — some 
further memorials and descriptions of this very extraordinary person. 

In most people, even those of the truest merit, a studied manage- 
ment, will sometimes appear with a little too much varnish, like a noc- 
turnal piece that has a light cast through even the most shaded parts ; 
some disposition to set one's self off, and some satisfaction in being 
commended, will at some time or another shew itself more or less. 
No person who had the honor to approach the queen, and not 
even such as were admitted to the greatest nearness, and the most 
constant attendance, ever discovered any thing of this nature in her. 
When due acknowledgments were made, or decent things were 
said upon occasions that well deserved them, they seemed scarce to 
be heard. They were so. little desired, that they were presently 
passed over, without so much as an answer that might seem to enter- 
tain the discourse, even when it checked it. She went off from it to 
other subjects, as one who could not bear it. In her were seen the 
most active zeal for the public, and a constant delight in doing good, 
joined with such unaffected humility, and indifference to applause, 
that the most critical observers could never see reason to think, that 
the secret flatteries of vanity or self-love wrought inwardly, or had 
any power over her. 

An open and native sincerity, which appeared in genuine charac- 
ters, in a manner quite free and unconstrained, easily persuaded all 
who were about her that all was uniform and consistent, and was at 
the same time united with a charming behavior, a most amiable 
sweetness, and the sprightliness as well as the freedom of a true good 
humor. A fresh and graceful air more turned to seriousness, but al- 
ways serene, that dwelt upon her looks, discovered both the perfect 
calm within, and shewed the force as well as the loveliness of those 
principles, which were the springs of so cheerful a temper, and live- 
ly a deportment. 

The freedom of cheerfulness is not always under an exact com- 
mand. It will make escapes from rules, and be apt to go too far, 
and to forget all measures and bounds. It is seldom kept under 
a perpetual guard. The openness of the queen's behavior was 
subject to universal observation ; but yet it was under that regulari- 
ty of conduct, that they who knew her best, and saw her otfenest, 
could never discover her thoughts or intentions, further than as 
she herself had a mind to let them be known. No half word, or 
change of look, no forgetfulness, or career of discourse, ever drew 
any thing from her further or sooner than she designed it. This 
caution was managed by her in so peculiar a way, that no distrust 
was shewn in it, nor distaste given by it. It appeared to be no other 
£han that due reserve which became her elevation, and suited those 



QUEEN MARY II. 199 

affairs which were to pass through her hands. When she saw reason 
for it, she had the truest methods to oblige others to use all becoming 
freedom with herself, while at the same time she kept them at a 
proper distance from her own thoughts. 

She would never borrow any assistance from those arts, which are 
so common to great stations, that some, perhaps, may imagine them 
necessary. She did not cover her purposes by doubtful expressions, 
or such general words as, taken strictly, signify little, but in common 
use are understood to import a great deal more. As she would not 
deceive others, so she avoided the saying of that which might give 
them an occasion to deceive themselves ; and when she did not in- 
tend to promise, she took care to explain her meaning so critically, 
that it might be understood that no construction of a promise was to 
be made from general words of favor. In a course of several years, 
and of many turns, when great temptation was given for more artifi- 
cial methods, and when, according to the maxims of the world, great 
advantage might have been made of them, yet she maintained her 
sincerity so entirely, that she never once needed explanations to jus- 
tify either her words or actions. 

What was good and what was great in human nature were so 
equally mixed, and both shone with such a full brightness in her, that 
it was hard to tell in which of the two she was the more eminent. 

She maintained that respect that belonged to her sex without any 
of those mixtures which, though generally speaking they do not much 
misbecome it, yet seem a little to lessen it. She had a courage that 
was resolute and firm, mingled with a mildness that was soft and at- 
tracting. She had in her all the graces of her own sex, with all the 
greatness of the other. If she did not affect to be a Zenobia, or a 
Boadicea, it was not because she was destitute of their courage, but 
because she understood the decencies of her sex better than they did. 
A desire of power, or an eagerness of empire, were things so far be- 
low her, though they generally pass for heroic qualities, that per- 
haps the world never yet beheld so great a capacity for government 
joined with so little affection to it ; so unwillingly assumed, so mod- 
estly managed, and so cheerfully laid down. 

She was distinguished for a clearness of apprehension, a presence 
of mind, an exactness of memory, a solidity of judgment, and a 
correctness of expression. No one took things sooner, or retained 
them longer. No one judged more truly, or spoke more exactly. 
She wrote clear and short, with a true beauty and force of style. 
She discovered a superiority of genius, even in the most trifling mat- 
ters, which were considered by her only as amusements, and so gave 
no occasion for deep reflections. A happiness of imagination, and 
a liveliness of expression, appeared upon the commonest subjects on 
a sudden, and in the greatest variety of accidents. She was quick, 
but not hasty : and, even without the advantages which her rank 
gave her, she had an exaltation of mind, which subdued as well as 
charmed all who came near her. 



200 MEMOIRS OF 

A quickness of thought is often superficial. It easily catches, and 
sparkles with some lustre : but it lasts not long, nor does it strike 
deep. In the queen a bright vivacity was joined with an exploring 
diligence. Her age and her rank had denied her opportunities for 
much study, yet she had made no inconsiderable advances in knowl- 
edge, having read the best books in the three languages (English, 
Dutch, and French,) that were almost equally familiar to her. She 
gave the most of her hours to the study of the Scriptures, and of 
books relating to them. She had an uncommon understanding in 
matters of divinity ; and particularly she had so well considered our 
disputes with the Church of Rome, that she was capable of mana- 
ging debates in them with equal degrees of address and judgment. 

Next to the best subjects, she bestowed much of her time on 
books of history, principally of the latter ages, particularly those of 
her own kingdoms, as being the most proper to afford her useful in- 
struction. She was a good judge as well as a great lover of poetry. 
She liked it best, when it was employed on the best subjects. So 
tender she was of poetry, though much more of virtue, that the pros- 
titution of the Muses among us gave her a more than ordinary con- 
cern. She made some steps to the understanding philosophy and 
mathematics, but she stopped soon ; only she went far in natural his- 
tory and perspective, as she was also very exact in geography. Upon 
the whole, she studied and read more than could be imagined by 
any who had not known how many of her hours were spent in her 
closet. She would have made a much greater progress if the fre- 
quent returns of ill humors in her eyes, had not compelled her to 
spare them. Her very diversions gave indications of a mind that 
was truly great. She had no relish for those lazy entertainments, 
if they may deserve the name, that are the too common consumers 
of most people's time, and that make as great waste of their minds, 
as they do of their fortunes. If she sometimes used them, she 
made it visible it was only in compliance with forms,, because she was 
unwilling to offend others with too harsh a severity. She gave her 
minutes of leisure with the greatest willingness to architecture and 
gardening. She had a fruitfulness of invention, with a felicity of 
contrivance, that had airs in them which were nobler than what was 
more stiff, though it might be more regular, She knew that these 
things drew an expense after them ; but she had no inclinations be- 
yond these to any diversions that were costly, and since these em- 
ployed many hands she was pleased to say, " That she hoped it 
would be forgiven her. 53 

When her eyes were endangered by reading too much, she betook 
herself to the amusement of work ; and in all those hours that were 
not given to better employment she wrote with her own hands, and 
that, sometimes, with as constant a diligence as if she had been to earn 
her bread by her labor. It was a new thing, and seemed a strange 
sight, to see a queen work so many hours a day. But she consider- 



QUEEN MARY II. 201 

ed idleness as the great corrupter of human nature, and believed that 
if the mind had no employment given it, it would create some of the 
worst sort to itself; and she thought that any thing that might amuse 
and divert, without leaving any ill effects behind, ought to fill up 
those vacant hours that were not claimed by devotion or business. 
Her example soon wrought not only on those who belonged to her, 
but upon the whole town, to follow it ; so that it became, in her time 
as much the fashion to work as it had been to sit idle. In this par- 
ticular, which seemed to be nothing, and was made, by some a sub- 
ject of raillery, a greater step was taken than, perhaps, every one 
was aware of, towards bettering the age. While the queen thus diver- 
ted herself with work, she took care to give an entertainment to her 
own mind, as well as to those who were admitted to the honor of 
working with her. One was appointed to read to the rest ; the choice 
was suited to the time of the day, and the employment ; some book 
or poem that was lively as well as instructive. Few of her sex, not 
to say of her rank, gave ever less time to dressing, or seemed less 
curious about it. Those parts of it which required more patience 
were not given up entirely to it. She read often all the time herself, 
and generally aloud, that those who served about her might be the 
better for it. When she was indisposed, another was called to do it. 
The whole was mixed with such pleasant reflections of her own, that 
the gloss was often better than the text. An agreeable vivacity diffu- 
secj that innocent cheerfulness among all about her, that whereas, in 
most courts, the hours of strict attendance are the heaviest part of 
the day, they were, in hers, of all others, the most delightful. 

Her cheerfulness might well be termed innocent, for none was 
ever hurt by it. No natural defects, nor real faults, were ever the 
subjects of her mirth ; nor could she bear it in others if their wit 
happened to glance that way. She thought it a cruel and barbarous 
thing to be merry at other people's cost, or to make the mis- 
fortunes or follies of others the matter of diversion. She scarce 
ever expressed a more entire satisfaction in any sermon that she 
had heard, than in that of Archbishop Tillotson against evil speak- 
ing. When she thought some were guilty of it, she would ask 
them if they had read that sermon. This was understood to be a 
reprimand, though in the softest manner. She had, indeed, one of 
the blessings of virtue, but which does not always accompany it ; for 
she was as free from censures as she was from deserving them. 
When reflections were made on this her felicity, she said, " That 
she ascribed it wholly to the goodness of God to her; for she did 
not doubt but that many fell under hard censures that deserved them 
as little." She also gave the matter this further turn, " That God 
knew her weakness, and that she was not able to bear some imputa- 
tions, and therefore he did not try her beyond her strength." In 
one respect, she intended never to provoke censure. She was con- 
scientiously tender of wounding others, and said, " she hoped God 

26 



202 MEMOIRS OF 

would still bless her in her good name as long as she was careful not 
to hurt others." But as she was exact in not wronging any other 
while she diverted herself, so, upon indifferent subjects, she had a 
spring of cheerfulness in her that was never to be exhausted : it nev- 
er sunk by repetition, nor degenerated into a forced mirth. 

Dr. Bates's character of the queen may be considered as an 
abridgment, not without some very acceptable additions, of what 
has been already more diffusively said concerning her. There is 
an elegance and beauty in his thoughts and language that cannot fail 
giving pleasure to our readers. 

" The descent of our queen was royal : but this is only an exter- 
nal circumstance, and derives no moral virtue to a person. The 
splendor of extraction, like varnish in a picture, that gives more 
life and luster to the colors, makes the virtues or the vices of a per- 
son more conspicuous. 

" Her body was the beautiful temple of a fairer soul.* Her 
graceful presence inspired reverence and love in those who saw her, 
and appeared worthy of empire. But we have much greater things 
to speak concerning her. 

" I shall begin with her piety towards God. This is the first duty 
of man in order and dignity, and the most considerable in its conse- 
quences. It is the foundation of all royal virtues. In the public 
worship of God, she was a bright example of solemn and unaffected 
devotion. She prayed with humble reverence, heard the word with 
respectful silence, and with serious application of spirit, as duly con- 
sidering the infinite interval between the supremacy of heaven and 
princes on earth ; that their greatness in its lustre is but a faint and 
vanishing reflection of the Divine Majesty. One instance I shall 
specify in this kind. When her residence was at the Hague, a lady 
of noble quality coming to the court to wait on her on a Saturday, in 
the afternoon, was told she was retired from all company, and kept 
a fast in preparation for the receiving the Sacrament the next day. 
The lady staying till five o'clock, the princess came out, and con- 
tented herself with a very slender supper, it being incongruous to 
conclude a fast with a feast. Thus solemnly she prepared herself 
for spiritual communion with her Savior. When Moses was surpris- 
ed by the sight of the burning-bush, and intended to come near to it, 
he was warned by a voice from heaven, ' Draw not nigh hither : put 
off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is 
holy ground.' By the familiar figure of putting off the shoes is sig- 



* Mr. Boyer gives this more particular description of her. Her person was tall, 
and well proportioned. Her shape, while Princess of Orange, easy and genteel ; 
her complexion light brown ; her visage oval; her eyes quick and lively; and the 
rest of her features regular. Her stately port and native air of greatness command- 
ed respect from the most confident: but her sweet and graceful countenance tem- 
pered the awfulness of majesty, and her affable temper encouraged the most timo- 
rous to approach her. 



QUEEN MARY II. 203 

nified the purifying ourselves from all defilements. And certainly 
the presence of the Son of God is more peculiar in that sacred mys- 
terious ordinance than it was in the burning-bush : accordingly we 
should sanctify ourselves, and approach with holy fear. 

" Her religion was not confined to the chapel, but every day she 
had chosen hours for communion with God ; of which He is the on- 
ly discerner and rewarder. Some who are high in the world think 
it sufficient to pay a com pli mental visit to God once a week, and con- 
tent themselves with the external service, though destitute of holy af- 
fections, which are the life of religion ; or, at best, are satisfied with 
a few expiring acts of devotion : but the good queen's conversation 
was in heaven. She was constant in those duties in which the soul 
ascends to God in solemn thoughts and ardent desires ; and God de- 
scends into the soul by the excitations and influences of his Spirit. 

" Her religion was not only exercised in divine worship, but was 
influential into practice. The law of God was written in her heart, 
and transcribed in her life, in the fairest characters. 

" She had a sincere zeal for the healing our unhappy divisions in 
religious things, and declared her resolution upon the first address of 
some ministers, that she would use all means for that blessed end. 
She was so wise as to understand the difference between matters 
doctrinal and ritual; and so good as to allow a just liberty for dis- 
senters in things of small moment. She was not lettered with super- 
stitious scruples ; but her clear and free spirit was for the union of 
Christians in things essential to Christianity. The holiness of her 
life was universal. She was born and lived in a court that shines in 
pomp, and flows in pleasures, and presents charming temptations to 
all the distempered appetites. Pride, that destroyed both worlds, 
and cleaves so close to human nature, reigns there. The love of 
pleasure is a soft seducer that easily insinuates itself through the sens- 
es, and captivates the soul. It is an observation of St. Chrysostom, 
that the preserving the three Hebrew martyrs unpolluted in the court 
of Babylon, was a greater miracle than the preserving them unsing- 
ed in the firy furnace. In the absence of temptations the corrupt, 
nature is sometimes so concealed that it is hardly known to itself; 
but when tempting objects, armed with allurements, offer themselves, 
the corrupt nature is presently discovered, especially if a person 
comes to the license of a sceptre, that swells pride, and authorizes 
the exorbitant desires. To be humble in such a high elevation, to 
be temperate in the midst of the freest fruitions, is the effect of pow- 
erful grace. But who ever saw in the queen an appearance of pride 
and disdain ? How grateful was the condescendence of her great- 
ness ! Who ever saw any disorder in her countenance, the crystal 
wherein the affections are visible ? Her breast was like the Pacific 
Sea that seldom suffers, and is disturbed by a storm. She was so 
exempt from the tyranny of the angry passions, that we may have 
some conjecture of the felicity of the state of unstained innocence, ol 



204 MEMOIRS OF 

which one ray is so amiable. She had such an abhorrence of the 
sensual passions, that nothing impure durst approach her presence. 

" She had an excellent understanding, that qualified her for gov- 
ernment. Of this her presiding in council in times of danger, and 
preserving the tranquility of the kingdom, were real proofs. 

" Her charity, that celestial grace, was like the sun : nothing with- 
in her circuit was hid from its refreshing heat. Love is the clearest 
notion we have of the Deity. God is Love. A prince in no per- 
fection resembles God more than in his communicative goodness. I 
will mention one act of her pious charity, and the noble manner of 
her doing it. A lord of great honor and piety proposed to her a very 
good work that was chargeable. She ordered an hundred pounds 
should be paid to him for it. Some time interposing before the re- 
ceipt of the money, he waited upon the queen, and pleasantly told 
her, that interest was due for the delay of payment. She presently 
ordered that fifty pounds more should be given, which was done ac- 
cordingly. If it were known what this good queen did, and what she 
designed to do, among all her resplendent virtues, Charity would be 
illustrious. 

" Her wise redemption of time from unconcerning vanities for 
domestic affairs, was the effect and indication of her tender and vigi- 
lant conscience. She considered her glass was continually running, 
and all the sands were to be accounted for. How should this great 
example correct those who are lavish of nothing so much as of time, 
which being lost, is irrecoverable ! The sun returns every day but 
time never returns. 

In her sickness, patience had its perfect work. Her disease was 
uncomfortable, yet with resigned submission she bore it. When the 
danger of it was signified to her, she had no fearful thoughts about 
her future state. It is a cruel respect to sick persons, especially to 
princes, to conceal from them their danger till death steals insensibly 
upon them. Indeed considering their past lives, and their present 
anxieties, the advice of approaching death is an anticipation of it. 
But the spirit of this excellent saint was not afraid of evil tidings, but 
was fixed, trusting in the Lord. Her care had been to secure the 
love of God in the best time of her life ; and this mixed cordial drops 
in the bitterness of death. 

" In short, all the blessed virtues were eminently seen in her that 
might render her government an entire happiness to the kingdom. 
This erected her a throne in the hearts of her subjects, and the 
honor the wise poet attributes to the Emperor Augustus, 

Victorque volentes 



Per populos datjura- 

that she ruled a willing people, may more truly be said of this excel- 
lent princess. She was queen of the affections of the people, and 
governed them without constraint. Her praiseworthy actions will 



QUEEN MARY II. 205 

eternize her memory, when other princes, divested of their secular 
pomp, shall either be buried in dark oblivion, or condemned in 
history." 

There is a point of light in which we have not as yet considered 
this most excellent princess ; her affection and conduct as a wife to 
that great man, the Prince of Orange, afterwards King William the 
Third, to whom she was married about seventeen years. Such as 
have given an account of her character have bestowed, and we doubt 
not with sufficient reason, the highest praises upon her in this relation. 
" She was" says Bishop Burnet, " so tender and so respectful a wife, 
that she seemed to go beyond the most perfect idea to which wit or 
invention has been able to rise. The lowest condition of life, or the 
greatest inequality of fortune, has not afforded so complete a pattern . 
Tenderness and complacency seemed to strive which of them should 
be the more eminent. She had no higher satisfaction in the prospect 
of the greatness that was descending on her, than that it gave her an 
occasion of making her husband a present worthy of himself; nor 
had crowns or thrones any charm in them that was so pleasant to her, 
as that they raised him to a greatness which he so well deserved, and 
could so well maintain. She was all zeal and rapture, when any 
thing was to be done that could either express affection, or shew re- 
spect to him. She obeyed with more pleasure than the most ambi- 
tious could have when they command." That the bishop's account 
of her in this view, and other such representations of her in the 
same exalted strain by other writers that might be mentioned, do not 
surpass the truth, but are only a justice to her memory, we may well 
conclude from what both the king said and did during her sickness, 
and after her decease. When Dr. Tennison, upon her death, went 
to comfort the king, his majesty answered, " That he could not but 
grieve, since he had lost a wife who in seventeen years, had never 
been guilty of an indiscretion." — "On the third day of her illness," 
says Bishop Burnet, " the king called me into his closet, and gave 
a free vent to a most tender passion. He burst out into tears, and 
cried out, that there was no hope of the queen, and that from being 
the happiest, he was now going to be the miserablest creature on 
earth." He said, " that during the whole course of their marriage he 
had never known one single fault in her ; that there was a worth in her 
that nobody knew beside himself; though," he added, " I might know 
as much of her as any other person did." Presently after, the same 
historian adds, " that the king's affliction for her death was as great 
as it was just. It was greater than those who knew him best thought 
his temper capable of. He went beyond all bounds in it. During 
her sickness he was in an agony that amazed us all, fainting often, 
and breaking out into most violent lamentations. When she died, 
his spirits sunk so low, that there was great reason to apprehend thai, 
he was following her. For some weeks after he was so little master 
of himself, that he was not capable of minding business, or of seeing 
company." 



206 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURNET. 



The subject of our Memoirs was born November 8th, in the year 
1661. She was the eldest daughter of Sir Richard Blake, Knight, 
the fifth son of Thomas Blake, of Earontoun, in the county of South- 
ampton, Esquire, of an eminent family, and of Elizabeth, daughter 
of Doctor Bathurst, a physician in London, a person of distinguished 
piety, and among the most considerable men of his profession in his 
time. 

At eleven years old she began to have a true sense of religion, and 
read, with great application, the books that were put into her hands, 
but was not entirely satisfied with them, aspiring after more solid and 
sublime sentiments than what she met with in them. On this account 
it was that more than ordinary care was taken to make her think 
meanly of herself, she being bred up in the greatest privacy possible. 

When she was but a little more than seventeen years of age she 
was married to Robert Berkely, of Spetchly, in the county of Wor- 
cester, Esquire, grandson of Sir Robert Berkely, who was a judge 
in the reign of Charles the Second. The match between this young 
gentleman and her was principally procured by the means of Doc- 
tor Fell, then Bishop of Oxford, who was Mr. Berkely's guardian, 
and had taken the care of his education. The bishop thought that the 
assisting his friend in that match was the greatest service he ever per- 
formed for him. 

When the young lady came into the family, she found her hus- 
band's mother a zealous papist, and a woman of a good life. This 
put her upon taking particular care to study her own religion in a 
larger compass, in order to understand the controversies between the 
protestants and papists, that she might be able to preserve her hus- 
band and herself from the artifices and insinuations of the popish 
priests, and the influence of his mother, who had great interest in 
him. But yet, considering the particular turn of her husband's mind, 
and the great deference she owed to his mother, she found herself 
obliged to be very tender and careful, that she might not be disturbed 
with unnecessary disputes about religion ; in which, and in her whole 
management in this respect, there appeared a discretion admired by 
all who knew her. 

At the same time, this young lady obliged herself to a more than 
ordinary strictness in all the offices of piety, and in her whole con- 
duct, that she might adorn her own profession by a suitable practice, 
constantly governing herself by the rules of true religion, and the se- 
verest virtue. Accordingly, living in the country, where she enjoy- 



MEMOIRS, &£C. 207 



ed much leisure, she spent great part of her time in devotion and 
reading. When she was inclined to divert herself with work, she 
generally had some persons to read to her ; and when her poor 
neighbors came to visit her, which, upon her encouragement, they 
often did, she would frequently read good books to them herself, that 
she might instruct them without seeming to take too much upon her. 

In this manner she lived for six years, being esteemed and loved by 
all who knew her, even by those who, on account of different opin- 
ions in religion, were likely to be most prejudiced against her. 

In King James's time, when the fears of popery began greatly to 
increase, and Bishop Fell died, who had great influence over Mr. 
Berkely, to prevent his being wrought upon by his relations, at the 
time they conceived mighty hopes of the popish religion being set- 
tled in these kingdoms, Mrs. Berkely prevailed upon her husband to 
go to Holland ; and accordingly they travelled together over the 
seventeen provinces. In the popish provinces, on the account of his 
relations, they met with an unusually kind reception, letters being 
sent, without their knowledge, to Brussels, Ghent, Liege, and other 
considerable places, recommending Mrs. Berkely in a very partic- 
ular manner, as one whose piety and virtue, had she been of the cath- 
olic church, as they called it, were great enough to entitle her to the 
character of a saint. 

After these journeys, Mr. and Mrs. Berkely fixed at the Hague, 
where she was soon known, and grew into the esteem and friendship 
of persons of the highest rank. Here they continued till about the 
time of the Revolution, when they returned into England, and went 
to Spetchjy, their country seat. 

Here Mrs. Berkely went on in the happy course of life she had at 
first engaged in, making continual increases in knowledge and good 
works. She had generally some young persons in her family, whom 
she well improved both by her instructions and example, so that there 
was quickly a visible alteration made in them. 

Her knowledge and virtue made her every day more and more 
taken notice of in that country. She contracted an intimate friend- 
ship with the eminent Doctor Stillingfleet, Bishop of Worcester, who 
to his death maintained an high esteem of her ; and upon several 
occasions has been often heard to say, " that he knew not a more 
considerable woman in England than she was." Thus she continu- 
ed to live with Mr. Berkely till the year 1693, when it pleased God 
to remove him from her by death. 

In her widowhood, as she had more leisure than in her married 
state, so she applied it wholly to devotion, to reading, to acts of chari- 
ty, and the offices of friendship ; particularly she took upon her the 
care of her late husband's protestant relations, as if they had been 
her own ; and indeed she was a mother to them all, as long as she 
lived, and shewed a great concern and kindness for them at her 
death. She was also very good, and obliging to all the rest of his 
family. 



208 MEMOIRS OF 

She then had a very plentiful income, which she managed with 
great prudence, as well as in a large exercise of charity ; and indeed 
she was uneasy at all other kind of expenses but what went in that 
way. 

While she continued at Spetchly she kept a hospitable table, to 
which the neighboring clergy were always welcome. She paid true 
respect to such of them as were in low circumstances, cordially es- 
teeming them for their functions and labors. She frequently made 
them presents of the most useful books, and to some she generously 
lent money, without requiring any security, expecting only to be paid 
when, by the providence of God, they might be put into more easy 
circumstances. 

She spent some time at Worcester, with Bishop Stillingfleet and his 
lady, with whom she had a most particular friendship ; and at the 
house of Robert Wylde, Esquire, who took a particular care of her, 
and of her concerns ; for whom, and his whole family she retained, 
as they well deserved them from her, a very high esteem and friend- 
ship. 

Mr. Berkely ordering in his will a great sum of money to be rais- 
ed out of his estate, to erect a hospital at Worcester for poor people, 
she had it much at heart to see the design brought to perfection as 
soon as possible, and it pleased God to continue her life till she saw 
it accomplished. Besides the care of this business, she took upon 
her several charges in relation to his affairs, more than the law requi- 
red, in the payment of debts and legacies. She also still continued 
one eminent instance of charity, to which she had engaged Mr. 
Berkely in his life-time, a kind of charity which is now, by the di- 
vine blessing, spread almost all over England, the setting up schools 
for the instruction and education of poor children ; which she after- 
wards increased to a far greater number. 

She spent a good part of her time at London with her only sister, 
the wife of Mr. Justice Dormer, who was always very dear to her, 
and she had a high value for the great integrity and worth of that 
judge. 

Mrs. Berkely had early an inclination to employ her pen in sever- 
al sorts of composition, which she was thought by her friends to do 
to such very good purpose, that it encouraged her to spend much of 
her time in that way. While she was a widow, she made the first 
draught of that excellent book of hers, entitled, " A New Method of 
Devotion, or Rules for Holy and Devout Living, with Prayers on 
several Occasions, and Advices and Devotions for the Holy Sacra- 
ment," for her own use only, consisting of such rules and directions 
as she resolved to conduct herself by, and which indeed had been all 
along the measure of her practice. 

She continued a widow near seven years, and then was married to 
Doctor Gilbert Burnet, Bishop of Salisbury. She found in the bishop's 
house a family of children, whom she treated not with a false indul- 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURNET. 209 

gence on the one hand, nor an unnatural severity on the other, but 
with all that care and true concern for their education, as if they had been 
her own ; and indeed she was loved and respected by them as if she 
had brought them into the world : of which the bishop was so sensible, 
that he had by his will, then made, left them under her direction and 
authority in so absolute a manner, that it has been seldom known that 
so much power was ever intrusted even to the real mothers of any 
children. The bishop, rightly judging that he brought blessing and 
happiness enough into his family by bringing such a mother into it, desi- 
red her to secure all her own estate and income to herself, with a power 
to make such a will as she pleased, to which he bound himself to 
consent. 

Thus she continued the mistress of all that was her own, allowing 
for her own entertainment what did not exceed the rate of a board- 
ing-house, that so she might the more abound in good works, which 
the bishop accepted, though he was willing, as he often told her, 
" that nothing at all should be allowed on that account," for she had 
in herself a treasure of more value than any riches. And, indeed, 
the bishop was desirous that all the world should see what an esteem 
he had for so much true worth, and that of the sublimest kind, as he 
found in his lady. 

After this she extended her charity further than she had done be- 
fore : and, indeed, instead of giving a fifth part of her income, which 
would have been no small proportion, she was very uneasy at taking 
only a fifth part to her own use. She seldom went beyond it, and 
was much oftener restrained within it, by which means she was able 
to employ considerable sums in charitable uses, and particularly the 
number of children taught at her expense, in and about Worcester 
and Salisbury, amounted to above a hundred. 

She now grew into a more general acquaintance, and was contin- 
ually rising higher in the esteem of the world in proportion as she 
became more known. She entered into friendships with some per- 
sons of the greatest quality which made no other alteration in her 
than that of increasing her zeal of doing more good as her interest 
was enlarged. To be rich in good works was visibly the reigning 
design of her whole life, and that in which she most of all delighted 
herself. 

Notwithstanding the interruptions which a more diffusive acquaint- 
ance gave her, she spent as much time as she could secure to her- 
self, in writing upon divine and moral subjects, and was prevailed 
with to consent to the printing of the first edition of the above-men- 
tioned book, which, as well as the second, was entirely her own 
composition, without any assistance or addition by any person what- 
ever. 

The book being very much approved of by many of her friends, 
she apprehended she could make it more useful by a large addition 
out of many other papers she had by her. Upon this she printed 

27 



210 MEMOIRS OF 

a second edition at her own expense, that she might dispose of it 
among those whom she thought most likely to be improved by it. 

This excellent woman kept a constant journal of her life, and ev- 
ery evening employed no inconsiderable time, in recollecting her ac- 
tions and discourse in the day ; and she would call herself to an ac- 
count in every particular, that the errors of every day past might be 
avoided in those that should follow. 

She continually labored under a weak habit of body, which at 
length grew upon her to such a degree that it was thought she could 
not easily overcome it. On this account she was advised to go to 
the Spa, for the recovery of her health. She undertook a journey 
thither in the year 1707, and wheresoever she went she was received 
with great marks of esteem and respect by persons of the most emi- 
nent rank. 

After her return she seemed to be in a much better state of health, 
and bore the severity of the beginning of the winter of 1708 so well, 
that her friends hoped her constitution was grown stronger than it 
had been : but it pleased God, upon the breaking up of the frost, 
January 27, 1708-9, that she was seized with a pleuritic fever, the 
symptoms of which were not violent at first, nor were her friends at 
first apprehensive of her danger; but, her lungs being weak, she sunk 
under the disorder in a few days, and died February 3, 1708-9. 
She was buried at Spetchly, by her former husband, according to a 
promise she had made him, as appears by the following clause in her 
will. " I will that my body be buried in the parish church of Spetch- 
ly, in the county of Worcester, in a vault made for me by my former 
husband, Robert Berkely, Esquire, and myself. I order this to fulfil 
a promise I made to him, and not out of any want of respect or kind- 
ness to my present husband, who has by his great kindness and con- 
fidence deserved from me all the gratitude and acknowledgments of 
love and respect 1 can testify." 

"After this brief account," says the writer of her Memoirs,* '"of 
some of the most remarkable circumstances of her life, in which she 
must appear a bright example of the most eminent virtue in a private 
station, I should not do justice either to her, or to the world, if I did 
not enlarge a little more upon her character ; in which if I should be 
thought to have said too much by them that were not acquainted with 
her, I am confident what I say will be judged by them who knew her, 
to fall below her character." 

She knew exactly how to distinguish between the means and end 
of religion ; and was well aware of the necessity of joining them both 
together in her practice ; so that, as she came up to the strictest rules 
of piety in her devotions both in private and public, especially in her 
frequent receiving the sacrament of the Lord's Supper, she was also 



* The Hev. Dr. T. Goodwyn, Archdeacon of Oxford. 



MRS. ELIZABETH BURNET. 211 

fully persuaded that she was to maintain a strict government over her 
passions, to observe a constant care and watchfulness over her whole 
conduct, and to abound in every good work. 

Though she had no skill in the learned languages, yet by making 
the understanding the Scriptures her chief study, with the help of 
English commentators, and the assistance of those clergy with whom 
she most frequently conversed, and with whom she often discoursed 
about texts of Scripture that were obscure to her, she attained to a 
great knowledge in the divine writings. Though her mind was nat- 
urally inquisitive, her apprehension quick, and her judgment solid, 
yet she confined her inquiries to a few things. Accordingly, when 
she had made some progress both in geometry and philosophy, she 
laid those studies aside, though she had a genius and relish for them. 
She considered the " one thing needful," and applied herself wholly 
to what related to it ; and even in that she valued knowledge only as 
it purified the mind. Her chief care was to govern her passions ; to 
moderate her affections to created objects ; and to elevate her soul to 
an entire resignation and conformity to the holy will of God. 



212 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 



Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, a gentlewoman not more admired for 
her fine writings by the ingenious who did not know her, than esteem- 
ed and loved by all her acquaintance, for the many amiable qualities 
of her heart, was born atllchester, in Somersetshire, Sept. 11, 1674, 
being the eldest of three daughters* of Mr. Walter Singer a gentle- 
man of a good family, and Mrs. Elizabeth Portnell, both of them 
persons of distinguished merit and piety. Mr. Singer was not a na- 
tive of Uchester, not so much as an inhabitant, before his imprison- 
ment there for his nonconformity, in the reign of King Charles the 
Second ; but being confined there, Mrs. Portnell, thinking herself 
obliged to visit those who suffered for the sake of a good conscience, 
as a testimony of her regard, not only to them, but to our common 
Lord, in this way commenced an acquaintance with Mr. Singer, 
which afterward proceeded to a union that death alone could dis- 
solve ; and this it did too soon for the mournful surviver, if the tender- 
est affection might be judged, and for the world also, which can badly 
bear to lose any, and especially the eminent examples of virtue and 
religion, in the several scenes and stations of life. Till her death 
Mr. Singer resided at Uchester, but not long after removed into the 
neighborhood of Frome, in the same county, where he became so 
well known and distinguished for his good sense, primitive integrity, 
simplicity of manners, uncommon prudence, activity and faithfulness 
in discharging the duties of his station, inflexible adherence to his 
principles, and at the same time truly catholic spirit, as to be held in 
high esteem even by persons of superior rank ; the Lord Weymouth, 
who was reckoned a very good judge of men 5 not only writing to him, 
but honoring him with his visits, as did also the devout Bishop Ken, 
and that very frequently, sometimes once a week. 

Mr. Singer was religiously inclined, as he said himself, when 
about ten years old, and declared that he never from that time neg- 
lected prayer ; and as far as be knew his own heart, had sincerely en- 
deavored to keep a good conscience. He died as he had lived, April, 
1 9, 1719, in a blessed calm and peace of mind, and humble confidence 
in the mercy of God through a Redeemer. A worthy and intimate 
friend of his, and witness to the heroic and christian manner in which 



* One of the other two daughters died in her childhood, and the other survived to 
her twentieth year, a lovely concurrent with her sister in the race of virtue and 
elory. She had the same extreme passion for books, chiefly those of medicine, in 
which she arrived at a considerable skill. Both the sisters frequently studied till 
midnight. — Biograph. Britannica. 



MEMOIRS, &C. 213 

he finished life, observes, " that he settled his affairs, and took leave 
of the world with the same freedom and composure as if he had 
been setting out on a journey, was peculiarly careful that the widows 
and orphans with whose concerns he was intrusted, might not be in- 
jured after his decease ; conversed, though under great bodily disor- 
ders, with those who came to see him, who were not a few, in the 
easiest, freest manner, spent his time in praising and blessing God, 
praying to him and giving good counsel to those about him ; shewed 
an uncommon sweetness and patience in his behavior, and was ex- 
ceeding thankful to those who did the least kind office for him, 
though they owed him a great deal more." In a memorandum re- 
lating to her father's last sickness and death, Mrs. Rowe herself 
has these words. " My father often felt his pulse, and complained 
that it was still regular, and smiled at every symptom of approaching 
death. He would be often crying out, Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly ; come, ye holy angels, that rejoice at the conversion of a 
sinner, come and conduct my soul to the skies, ye propitious spirits ;" 
and dien would add, "but thy time, Lord, not mine, is best." 

Such as were acquainted with Mrs. Rowe from her earliest years, 
could not but observe a great many things, not common at that time 
of life, which promised that bright day that afterwards ensued ; and 
it must have been with peculiar satisfaction that Mr. Singer, in whom 
parental affection concurred with a penetrating discernment to height- 
en the pleasure, beheld the dawnings of a great and good mind in 
his young daughter. 

When she received the first serious impressions of religion, does 
not appear. Undoubtedly they were made while she was very young 
for in one of her pious addresses she herself thus speaks to God : 
" My infant hands were early lifted up to thee, and I soon learned to 
know and acknowledge the God of my fathers."* 

She loved, such was her taste for painting, the pencil, when she 
had hardly strength and steadiness of hand to guide it ; and one 
might almost venture to say, that even in her infancy she would 
squeeze out the juices of herbs to serve her instead of colors. Mr. 
Singer, perceiving her fondness for this art, was at the expense of a 
master to instruct her in it, and it never ceased to be her amuse- 
ment till her death. 

She was also very much delighted with music, chiefly of the grave 
and solemn kind, as best suited to the grandeur of her sentiments, 
and the sublimity of her devotion. 

But her strongest bent was to poetry. So prevalent was her gen- 
ius this way, that her very prose has all the charms of verse without 
the fetters; the same fire and elevation, the same bright images, 
bold figures, and rich and flowing diction. She could hardly write 



* Devotional Exercises, p. .')'.]. 



214 MEMOIRS OF 

a single letter but it bore the stamp of the poet. One of her ac- 
quaintance remembered to have heard her say, " that she began to 
write verses at twelve years old," which was almost as soon as she 
could write at all. In the year 1696, the 22d of her age, a col- 
lection of her poems on various occasions was published at the de- 
sire of two of her friends, which we may suppose did not contain all 
that she had by her, since the ingenious prefacer gives the reader to 
hope, " that the author might in a little time be prevailed with to ob- 
lige the world with a second part, no way inferior to the former." 

Though many of these poems are of the religious kind and all of 
them consistent with the strictest regard to the rules of virtue, yet 
some things in them gave her no small uneasiness in advanced life. 
What she could not absolutely approve, so quick was her moral 
feeling, appeared unpardonable, and not satisfied to have done no- 
thing that injured the cause of virtue, she was displeased with her- 
self for having written any thing that did not directly promote it. 

What first introduced her to the notice of Lord Weymouth's fam- 
ily, was a little copy of verses of hers, with which they were so 
highly delighted as to express a curiosity to see her ; and the friend- 
ship that commenced from that time, subsisted ever after, not more to 
her honor, who was the favorite of persons so much superior to her- 
self in the outward distinctions of life, than to the praise of their 
judgment and taste, who knew how to prize, and took a pleasure to 
encourage such blooming worth. She was not then twenty years of 
age. Her paraphrase of the 38th chapter of Job was written at the 
request of Bishop Ken, who was at that time in the family, and 
gained her a great deal of reputation. 

She had no other tutor for the French and Italian languages than 
the Hon. Mr. Thynne, son to Lord Viscount Weymouth, who will- 
ingly took that task upon himself, and had the pleasure to see his 
fair pupil improve so fast under his lessons, that in a few months 
she was able to read Tasso's Jerusalem with great ease. 

In the year 1710 she was married to Mr. Thomas Rowe, son 
of the Rev. Benoni Rowe, a non-conformist minister of a reputable 
family. This young gentleman, for he was but three and twenty 
when he married, was possessed of a very fine understanding, had 
largely enriched his mind with learning, and was remarkably devoted 
to knowledge and improvement. Mr. Rowe well knew how to value 
the treasure which Providence had given him, in a woman of such 
exalted merit and amiable qualities, and accordingly made it his stu- 
dy to repay the felicity with which she crowned his life. The es- 
teem and tenderness he had for her are inexpressible. It was some 
time after his marriage that he wrote to her a very tender ode under 
the name of Delia, full of the warmest sentiments of connubial 
friendship and affection, in which the following lines may appear 
remarkable, as it pleased Heaven to dispose events in a manner so 
agreeable to the wishes Mr. Rowe expresses in them. 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 215 

Long may thy inspiring page 
And great example bless the rising age ! 
Long in thy charming prison may'st thou stay, 
Late, very Jate, ascend the well-known way, 
And add new glories to the realms of day ! 
At least Heav'n will not sure this pray'r deny, 

Short be my life's uncertain date, 

And earlier far than thine the destin'd hour of fate ! 
Whene'er it comes, may'st thou be by, 
Support my sinking frame, and teach me how to die, 

Banish desponding nature's gloom, 

Make me to hope a gentle doom, 

And fix me all on joys to come ! 
With swimming eyes I'll gaze upon thy charms, 
And clasp thee, dying, in my fainting arms : 

Then gently leaning on thy breast, 

Sink in soft slumbers to eternal rest ; 

Without a groan resign my breath, 

Nor shrink at the cold arms of death ; 
The ghastly form shall have a pleasing air, 
And all things smile, while Heav'n and thou art there. 

Mr. Rowe had not a constitution naturally robust, so that his intense 
application to study might perhaps contribute to that ill state of health 
which allayed the happiness of his marriage state, during the greater 
part of it. In the latter end of the year 1714 his weakness increas- 
ed, and he appeared to labor under all the symptoms of a consump- 
tion. This fatal distemper, after it had confined him some months, 
cut off the fair hopes of his doing great honor and service to his 
country ; and put a period to his life, May 13, 1715, when he was 
but just past the twenty-eight year of his age. He died at Hamp- 
stead, near London, where he had for some time resided for the 
benefit of the air, and was buried in the vault belonging to his family 
in the cemetery in Bunhill Fields, where on his tomb are only written 
his name, and the dates of his birth and death. 

It was only out of regard to Mr. Rowe, that with his society Mrs. 
Rowe was willing to reside in London during the winter season. Ac- 
cordingly, as soon after his decease as her affairs would permit, she 
indulged her invincible inclinations to solitude, by removing to 
Frome, in Somersetshire, in the neighborhood of which place the 
greater part of her estate lay. When she left town, she determined 
to return to it no more, but to spend the remainder of her life in an 
absolute retirement ; yet on some few occasions she thought it her du- 
ty to violate her resolution. In compliance with the importunate re- 
quests of the Honorable Mrs. Thynne, she passed some months with 
her at London, after the death of her daughter, the Lady Brooke ; 
and on the melancholy occasion of the decease of Mrs. Thynne 



216 MEMOIRS OF 

herself, she could not dispute the solicitations of the Countess of 
Hertford, afterwards the Duchess of Somerset, who earnestly desired 
her to reside some time with her at Marlborough, to soften, by her 
conversation and friendship, her severe affliction in the loss of her 
excellent mother ; and once or twice more, it is apprehended, the 
power this last lady had over Mrs. Rowe drew her, by an obliging 
kind of violence, to spend a few months at this or some other of her 
ladyship's country seats. Yet even on these occasions, Mrs. Rowe 
never quitted her silent retreat without very sincere regret, and al- 
ways returned to it as soon as ever she could with decency disengage 
herself from the importunity of her noble friends. 

In this recess she composed her pieces entitled " Friendship in 
Death," and the several parts of the letters " Moral and Entertain- 
ing." The drift of the letters from the dead is, as the ingenious au- 
thor * of the preface expresses it, " to impress the notion of the 
soul's immortality ; without which, all virtue and religion, with their 
temporal and eternal good consequences, must fall to the ground : 
and to make the mind contract, as it were, unawares, a habitual 
persuasion of our future existence by writings built on that founda- 
tion." It may be added also, that the design of both of these, and 
the letters " Moral and Entertaining," is, by fictitious examples of he- 
roic virtue, and the most generous benevolence, to allure the reader 
to the practice of every thing that ennobles human nature, and bene- 
fits the world ; and by the just and lively images of the remorse and 
misery attendant on vice, to warn the young and unthinking from be- 
ing seduced to ruin by the enchanting name of pleasure : the piety 
of which intention is the more worthy of the highest panegyric, as it 
is so uncommon in witty and polite writers. 

In the year 1736, the importunity of some of Mrs. Rowe's ac- 
quaintance, who had seen the "History of Joseph" in manuscript, 
prevailed on her, though not without real reluctance, to suffer the po- 
em to be made public. She wrote this piece in her younger years, 
and, when first printed, had carried it no farther than the marriage of 
the hero of the poem ; but, at the request of her friends, particularly 
an illustrious lady f to w T hom she could scarce refuse any thing, she 
added two books, to include the relation of Joseph's discovery of 
himself to his brethren; the composing of which, as it is said, was 
no more than the employment of three or four days. This addition- 
al part, which was her last work, was published but a few weeks be- 
fore her death. 

This grand event, the preparation for which she had made so 
much the business of her life, befell her, according to her wish, in her 
beloved recess. She enjoyed an uncommon strength of constitution, 
and had passed a long series of years with scarcely any indisposition 



* Dr. Young. i The Duchess of Somerset. 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROVVE. 217 

severe enough 10 confine her to her bed. But about a half a year 
before her decease she was attacked with a distemper which seemed 
to herself, as well as to others, attended with danger. Though this 
disorder, as she expressed herself to one of her most intimate friends, 
found her mind not quite so serene and prepared to meet death as 
usual]; yet when, by devout contemplations of the atonement and 
mediation of our blessed Redeemer, she had fortified herself against 
that fear and diffidence, from which the most eminent piety may not 
always be secure in that most solemn hour ; she experienced such 
divine satisfaction and transport, that she said with tears of joy, "that 
she knew not that she had ever felt the like in all her life ;" and she 
repeated on this occasion Mr. Pope's verses, entitled, " The Dying 
Christian to his Soul," with an air of such intense pleasure, as evi- 
denced that she really felt all the elevated sentiments of pious ectasy 
and triumph which breathe in that beautiful piece of sacred poetry. 
After this threatening illness, Mrs. Rowe recovered her usual good 
state of health ; and though at the time she was somewhat advanced 
in age, yet her exact temperance, and the calmness of her mind, 
undisturbed with uneasy cares and passions, encouraged her friends 
to flatter themselves with a much longer enjoyment of so valuable a 
life than it pleased Heaven to allow them. On the day in which she 
was seized with that distemper, which in a few hours proved mortal, 
she seemed to those about her to be in perfect health and vigor ; and 
in the evening, about eight of the clock, she conversed with a friend 
with all her wonted vivacity, after which she retired to her chamber. 
A^out ten, her servant hearing some noise in her mistress's room, ran 
instantly into it, and found her fallen off her chair on the floor speech- 
less, and in the agonies of death. She had the immediate assistance 
of a physician and surgeon, but all the means used were without suc- 
cess ; and after having given one groan, she expired a few minutes 
before two of the clock on the Lord's-day morning, Feb. 20, 1736- 
7, in the sixty-third year of her age, her disease being judged to be 
an apoplexy. A pious book was found lying open by her, as also 
some loose papers on which she had written the following uncon~ 
nected sentences. 

O guide, and counsel, and protect my soul from sin ! 
O speak and let me know thy heav'nly will ! 
Speak evidently to my listening soul ! 
O fill my soul with love, with light, and peace, 
And whisper heavenly comforts to my soul ! 
O speak, celestial Spirit, in the strain 
Of love and heav'nly pleasure to my soul ! 

Thus it appeared that in reading pious meditations, or forming 
devout ejaculations for the divine favor and assistance, Mrs. Rowe 
made the last use of the powers of her reason below the skies ; though 

28 



218 MEMOIRS OF 

little, it may be, did she think in these her last moments how near 
she was to that blissful hour, when all her prayers would be complete- 
ly answered, and be exchanged for eternal enjoyment and praise. 

As she was greatly apprehensive that the violence of pain, or the 
languors of a sick bed, might occasion some depression of spirits and 
melancholy fears unsuitable to the character and expectations of a 
Christian, it was her earnest and daily prayer to Heaven, as appear- 
ed from her manuscript-book of devotion, that she might not in this 
manner dishonor her profession ; and she often expressed to her 
friends her desires of a sudden removal to the skies, as it must ne- 
cessarily prevent any such improper behavior in her last moments : 
so that as the suddenness of Mrs. Rowe's death must be numbered 
among the felicities with which she was favored by Providence, it 
may be interpreted also as a reward of her singular piety, and a to- 
ken of the divine favor in answer to her prayers. 

Mrs. Rowe seemed, by the gaiety and cheerfulness of her temper, 
to be particularly adapted to enjoy life, and all its innocent satisfac- 
tions ; yet, instead of any excessive fondness for things present and 
visible, her contempt for what she used to term a low state of exis- 
tence, and a dull round of insipid pleasures, and the desires with 
which she breathed after the enjoyments of the heavenly world, were 
great beyond conception. When her acquaintance expressed to her 
the joy they felt at seeing her look so well, and possessed of so much 
health as promised many years to come, she was wont to reply, " that 
it was the same as telling a slave his fetters were like to be lasting, or 
complimenting him on the strength of the walls of his dungeon :" and, 
indeed, the fervor of her wishes to commence the life of angels irre- 
sistibly broke from her lips in numberless other instances. 

She was buried, according to her request, under the same stone 
with her father, in the meeting-place at Frome ; on which occasion, 
her funeral sermon was preached to a very crowded auditory, by the 
Rev. Mr. Bowden, her minister. Her death was lamented with very 
uncommon sorrow by all who had heard of her virtue and merit, but 
particularly by those of the town where she had so long resided, and 
her most intimate acquaintance. Above all, the news of her death 
struck the poor and distressed with inexpressible affliction ; and at 
her doors and over her grave they bewailed the loss of their benefac- 
tress, poured blessings on her memory, and recounted to each other 
the gentle and condescending manner with which she heard their re- 
quests, and the numerous instances in which they had experienced 
her goodness and bounty. 

In her cabinet were found letters to several of her friends, for 
whom she had an high esteem and affection ; namely, the Countess 
of Hertford, the Earl of Orrery, Mr. James Theobald, and Mrs. 
Sarah Rowe. These letters Mrs. Rowe had ordered to be deliver- 
ed to the persons to whom they were directed immediately after her 
decease. They are published in her life, drawn up by Mr. Theoph- 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 219 

ilus Rowe, and prefixed to her miscellaneous works in prose and 
verse, and discover a most pious spirit, a most tender and affection- 
ate friendship ; and, were it not that they would carry us beyond our 
proposed limits, we might lay them before our readers. 

Besides these letters, she wrote also another to Dr. Watts, accom- 
panying her papers, containing the devout Exercises of her Heart in 
Meditation, Soliloquy, Prayer, and Praise, which the doctor, accord- 
ing to her desire, soon after her decease communicated to the world. 

To the Rev. Dr. Watts, at Newington. 

Sir, — The opinion I have of your piety and judgment is the reason 
of my giving you the trouble of looking over these papers in order to 
publish them, which I desire you to do as soon as you can conven- 
iently, only you have full liberty to suppress what you think proper. 
I think there can be no vanity in this design, for I am sensible that 
such thoughts as these will not be for the taste of the modish part of 
the world, and before they appear, I shall be entirely disinterested in 
the censure or applause of mortals. 

The reflections were occasionally written, and only for my own 
improvement ; but I am not without hopes that they may have the 
same effect on some pious minds, as the reading the experiences of 
others have had on my soul. The experimental part of religion has 
generally a greater influence than its theory ; and if when I am sleep- 
ing in the dust, these soliloquies should kindle a flame of divine love 
in the heart of the lowest and most despised Christian, be the glory 
given to the great spring of all grace and benignity ! 

I have now done with mortal things, and all to come is vast eterni- 
ty — Eternity — how transporting is the sound ! As long as God exists, 
my being and happiness are secure. These unbounded desires, 
which the wide creation cannot limit, shall be satisfied forever. I 
shall drink at the fountain-head of pleasure, and be refreshed with 
the emanations of original life and joy. I shall hear the voice of un- 
created harmony speaking peace and ineffable consolation to my soul. 

I expect eternal life not as a reward (of merit,) but a pure act of 
bounty. Detesting myself in every view I can take, I fly to the 
righteousness and atonement of my great Redeemer for pardon and 
salvation. This is my only consolation and hope. " Enter not into 
judgment, O Lord, with thy servant, for in thy sight shall no flesh be 
justified." 

Through the blood of the Lamb I hope for an entire victory over 
the last enemy, and that before this comes to you I shall have reach- 
ed the celestial heights ; and, while you are reading these lines, 1 
shall be adoring before the throne of God, where faith shall be turn- 
ed into vision, and these languishing desires satisfied with the full fru- 
ition of immortal love. Adieu. Elizabeth Rowe. 



220 MEMOIRS OF 

Besides the compositions of Mrs. Rowe which have been already 
mentioned, namely, Friendship in Death, Letters Moral and Enter- 
taining, The History of Joseph, and The Devout Exercises of the 
Heart, there are also two more volumes that go under the name of 
her Miscellaneous Works ; the first of which is a collection of her 
poems written at various times, and on various occasions ; and the 
other a long series, to the number of 167, of her familiar letters to 
her friends. To the last volume are added, according to Mrs. Rowe's 
order, that these poems of her husband's should be joined with her 
own, several essays in poetry of Mr. Rowe's, which " though," as 
the writer of her life observes, " they were deprived, by the imma- 
ture death of the author, of his corrections, yet shew so much strength 
of genius as will easily atone for any slight inaccuracies." — " She 
had no other view," says the editor of her Miscellaneous Poems, (Mr. 
Theophilus Rowe, her brother-in-law,) " in their publication, to use 
the words of the letter in which she intrusted them to my care, but 
the profit or innocent entertainment of the reader. I hope, contin- 
ues she, all my present design is abstractedly the interest of virtue ; 
for a reputation among mortals is a very insignificant thing to me, 
who hope, before these papers are published, to be above their cen- 
sure or applause, and to receive the approbation of the Supreme 
Judge : but if they may be of any advantage to the cause of virtue, 
it will be a great satisfaction to me." These volumes, with the 
compositions just recited, may be reckoned to complete her works, 
in which we may venture to say, a pious and polite reader will not 
seek in vain for instruction and entertainment. " The softness of 
her sex, and the fineness of her genius," says the ingenious Mr. Mat- 
thew Prior, " conspire to give her a very distinguishing character ;" 
and this character is still more distinguishing, as it is mingled with 
such uncommon piety and virtue, as we have seen in part, but as will 
be more conspicuously shewn, while we communicate the picture, if 
we may so style it, of the amiable excellencies of her mind, as drawn 
by the just-mentioned writer of her Life, as well as editor of her Mis- 
cellanies. 

She had the happiest command over her passions, and maintained 
a constant serenity of temper, and sweetness of disposition, that could 
not be ruffled with adverse occurrences, nor soured by the approach- 
es of old age itself. It has been questioned whether she was ever 
angry in her whole life, at least with those little infelicities and dis- 
pleasing incidents that fell out in common life, which, though really 
of a trivial nature, frequently prove too powerful temptations to in- 
decencies of passion, but with her they were rather the subjects of 
mirth and agreeable raillery. It ought also to be observed, as per- 
sons are apt to be least on their guard against excesses of this kind 
towards inferiors and domestics, that her servant, who lived with her 
near twenty years, scarce ever discovered in her mistress any ten- 
dency to anger towards herself, or any warmth of resentment against 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 221 

others, except in the cause of Heaven against impiety and flagrant 
crimes; on which occasions some degree of indignation is not only ir- 
reproachable, but truly deserving the name of commendable and vir- 
tuous zeal. 

Together with the most manly elevation of genius, Mrs. Rowe 
possessed all that gentleness and softness of disposition which are so 
peculiarly the ornaments of her sex, and was entirely free from that 
severity of temper which has made the character of a wit unamiable, 
if not quite infamous. Next to impure and profane writings, she ex- 
pressed the strongest aversion against satire, as it is usually so replete 
with personal malice and invective. No strokes of this kind can be 
found in her works ; and her conversation was no less innocent of 
every appearance of ill-nature than her writings. She fortified her 
resolutions against evil-speaking by particular and solemn vows, as 
appears by the following sacred engagement, transcribed from her 
manuscript. 

October 6, 1726. — O let me once again bind myself to the Lord, 
never, by thy grace, to speak evil of any person. O help me to gov- 
ern my tongue by the strictest rules of charity and truth, and never 
to utter any evil surmises, or make the least reflection to the dishon- 
or of my neighbor. Let me in the minutest circumstances do to oth- 
ers as 1 would they should act to me. Let me hope, let me believe 
all things to the advantage of others. Give me thy divine assistance 
to perform this great duty, and set thou a watch on my words, and 
keep, O strictly keep the door of my lips, that I offend not with my 
tongue. Now let thy grace be sufficient for me, and thy strength be 
manifest in my weakness. In thy strength, in the name of the Lord, 
my Redeemer, let me engage with all my future temptations. Look 
graciously on ihis petition, and remember me when I am in any sus- 
pense, any exigence, and am ready to forget my engagements. In 
the moment when I shall waver strengthen me, restrain me when the 
malignant thought arises ; and, while the yet unuttered words are 
ready to issue from my lips, set thou a bridle there, and govern my 
rebellious faculty. 

Mrs. Rowe strictly regulated her conduct by the solemn vow, and 
could hardly think any occasion would justify the report of what was 
prejudicial to the reputation of another. " I can appeal," says she, 
in a letter to a lady with whom she had lived in a long and most in- 
timate friendship, " if you ever knew me make an envious or an ill- 
natured reflection on any person upon earth. Indeed the follies of 
mankind would afford a wide and various scene, but charity would 
draw a veil of darkness here, and choose to be for ever silent, rather 
than expatiate on the melancholy theme." Scandal and detraction 
appeared to her such extreme inhumanity, as no charms of wit and 
politeness could make tolerable. If she was forced to be present at 
such kind of conversation, she had sometimes, when the freedom 
might be decently used, the courage openly to condemn ii, " and," 



222 MEMOIRS OF 

says her biographer, " I believe always the generosity to undertake the 
defense of the absent, when unjustly accused, and to extenuate even 
their real faults and errors." 

She had few equals in her excellent turn for conversation. Her 
wit was inexhaustible, and she expressed her thoughts in the most 
beautiful and flowing language ; and as these uncommon advantages 
were accompanied with an easy goodness and unaffected openness of 
behavior, she powerfully charmed all who conversed with her. A 
peculiar elevation of understanding made her despise those trifles 
which so frequently dwell on the lips of the fair sex, and she would 
always have chosen to talk on important and instructive themes ; yet, 
lest constant discourse of a serious kind should prove distasteful and 
wearisome, she sometimes entertained her friends on more gay and 
indifferent subjects. But, as soon as a transition could be made 
without the appearance of affectation, she returned to her favorite 
topics, on which she exerted all her exquisite talents to recommend 
the most exact morality and sublime piety, so that it seemed impos- 
sible to be in her company without growing wiser and better, or to 
leave it without regret. 

Mrs. Rowe's wit, beauty,* and merit, had even from her youth 
conciliated to her to much compliment and praise, and these from 
such judges of worth as might have given some tincture of vanity 
to her mind. Yet amidst all these temptations to pride she retained 
all the humility of the meanest and most obscure person of the hu- 
man race. She rarely mentioned any of her writings, even to her 
most intimate friends, nor ever discovered the least elation of mind at 
their great success, and the approbation they received from some of 
the finest writers of the age. The praises with which her works 
were honored only led her to ascribe the glory to the original of all 
perfection on whose power she maintained a constant sense of her de- 
pendence, and with the most grateful piety owned her obligations to 
his goodness. " It is but for Heaven," said she, " to give a turn to 
one of my nerves, and I should be an ideot." She assumed no in- 
decent share in conversation, and has been frequently known to 
be silent on subjects she well understood, and on which she could 
have displayed her capacity to great advantage. 

Mrs. Rowe was exemplary in every relative duty. Filial piety 
was a remarkable part of her character. She loved the best of fa- 

* Her person is thus described by the writer of her life. " Though she was not 
a regular beauty, yet she possessed a large measure of the charms of her sex. She 
was of a moderate stature, her hair of a fine auburn color, and her eyes of a darkish 
grey, inclinable to blue, and full of fire. Her complexion was exquisitely fair, and 
a natural rosy blush glowed in her cheeks. She spoke gracefully, and her voice 
was exceeding sweet and harmonious, and perfectly suited to that gentle language 
which always flowed from her lips. But the softness and benevolence of her aspect 
were beyond all description. They inspired irresistible love, yet not without some 
mixture of that awe and veneration, which distinguished sense and virtue apparent 
in the countenance are wont to create." 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 223 

thers as she ought, and repaid his uncommon care and tenderness by 
all just returns of duty and affection. She has often been heard to 
say, " That she could die rather than do any thing to displease him ;" 
and the anguish she felt at seeing him in pain in his last sickness was 
so great, that it occasioned some kind of convulsion, a disorder 
from which she was wholly free in every other part of her life. 

When she was entered into the marriage state the highest esteem 
and most tender affection appeared in all her conduct to Mr. Rowe, 
and by the most gentle and obliging manners, and the exercise of 
every social virtue, she confirmed the empire she had gained over his 
heart. She made it her study to soften the anxieties, and heighten 
all the satisfactions of his life. Her capacity for superior things did 
not tempt her to neglect the less honorable cares, which the laws of 
custom and decency impose on the female sex in the connubial state, 
and much less was she led by a sense of her own merit to assume 
any thing to herself inconsistent with that duty and submission which 
the precepts of Christian piety so expressly enjoin. Mr. Rowe had 
some mixture of natural warmth in his temper, of which he had not 
always a perfect command. If at any time this broke out into some 
little excesses of anger, it never awakened any passion of the like 
kind in Mrs. Rowe, but on the contrary, she always remained mis- 
tress of herself, and studied by the gentlest language and tenderest 
endearment, to restore Mr. Rowe's mind to that calmness which 
reason approves ; and she equally endeavored, in every other in- 
stance, by the softest arts of persuasion, and in a manner remote 
from all airs of superiority, to lead him on towards that perfection of 
virtue, to which she herself aspired with the truest Christian zeal. 
During the long illness which ended in his death, she scarce ever 
stirred from him a moment, and alleviated his severe affliction, by 
performing with inconceivable tenderness and assiduity, all the offices 
of compassion suited to his melancholy situation. She partook of 
his sleepless nights, and never quitted his bed unless to serve him or 
watch by him ; and as she could scarcely be persuaded to forsake even 
his breathless clay, so she consecrated her future years to his mem- 
ory with resolutions of perpetual widowhood, which she inviolably 
maintained. Her conduct in this last instance, on the review of it, 
after an interval of several years, and in the near prospect of death, 
afforded her great satisfaction ; for she thus expresses herself in a 
letter intended after her own decease to be delivered to Mrs. Ara- 
bella Marrow, if that lady had survived her. " The solitude in 
which I have spent my time, since Mr. Rowe's death, has given me 
leisure to make the darkness of the grave, and the solemnity of dy- 
ing, familiar scenes to my imagination. Whatever such distinguish- 
ed sense and merit could claim, I have endeavored to pay my much 
loved husband's memory. I reflect with pleasure on my conduct on 
this occasion, not only from a principle of justice and gratitude to 
him, but from a conscious sense of honor, and love of a virtuous 



224 MEMOIRS OP 

reputation after death— but if the soul in a separate state should be 
insensible of human censure or applause, yet there is a disinterested 
homage due to the sacred name of virtue." 

She mourned over the deaths, first of her husband, and afterwards 
of her father, with all that becoming tenderness and sensibility, which 
ought to touch every human and generous heart at the loss of the 
dearest persons on earth ; yet her submission to the determinations of 
Divine Providence was exemplary, and she never presumed to 
breathe any criminal murmurs against the will of Heaven, which is 
ever just and good, nor behaved in these dark hours of distress and 
temptation in a manner unsuitable to that eminent piety which appear- 
ed in every other part of her life. 

She was a gentle and kind mistress, treating her servants with 
great condescension and goodness, and almost with the affability of a 
friend and equal. She caused due care to be taken of them when- 
ever they were ill, and did not think it misbecame her to sit by the 
bed of a sick servant to read to her books of piety. 

The tenderness of her humanity would not suffer her to be offen- 
ded with light faults ; and as she never dismissed any one from her 
family, "so," says her biographer, "I think none of her servants 
ever left her, but with a view to the changing their condition by mar- 
riage." She knew when she was well served, and reposed so much 
trust in those whose fidelity she had experienced, that it might verge 
to excess.; "yet even such great confidence," continues her historian 
" was due to that servant who was with Mrs. Rowe at the time of her 
death, whose long and faithful duty to her mistress, and remarkable 
sorrow for her loss, deserve to be mentioned with honor." 

Mrs. Rowe was a warm and generous friend, just, if not partial, 
to the merit of those whom she loved, and most gentle and candid 
to their errors. She was always forward to do them good offices ; 
but in a distinguished manner she studied with infinite art and zeal 
to insinuate the love of virtue into all her acquaintance, and to pro- 
mote their most important interest, by inciting them to the practice 
of whatever was pleasing in the sight of God and would be crowned 
with his peculiar favor. This she proposed as the best end of friend- 
ship. 

She was not entirely free from the attacks of malice, that she 
might not be without the opportunity of exercising the divine spirit 
of forgiveness ; yet one could scarce learn from her discourse that 
she had an enemy, for she was not wont to complain of any inde- 
cent conduct or injuries done to herself. So that it was apparent 
that such treatment made light impressions on her mind, or that she 
had endeavored to suppress them with the happiest success. 

Her charities were so great, that if we consider the mediocrity of 
her fortune, that they can scarce be paralleled. They were indeed 
only limited by the utmost extent of her power, for she devoted the 
whole of her income, besides what was barely sufficient for the ne- 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 225 

cessities of life, to the relief of the indigent and distressed. This 
her manuscript acquaints us with in the following vow, which as it 
evinces a heart glowing with the love of God and mankind, is worthy 
of the highest praise : but as this solemn engagement involved Mrs. 
Rowe in some perplexities, it seems peculiarly fit to add, that her 
example ought not to influence pious minds to fetter themselves in 
things not absolutely commanded, since the observation of such vows 
may be attended with unforeseen difficulties, injurious to the future 
peace of their lives. 

I consecrate, says Mrs. Rowe, in this her solemn vow, half my 
yearly income to charitable uses. And though by this according to 
human appearances, I have reduced myself to some necessity, I 
cast all my care on that gracious God to whom I am devoted, and 
to whose truth I subscribe with my hand. I attest his faithfulness, 
and bring in my testimony to the veracity of his word. I set to my 
seal that God is true, and O ! by the God of truth I swear to per- 
form this, and beyond this ; for if thou wilt indeed bless me, and en- 
large my coast, all that I have beyond the bare convenience and ne- 
cessity of life shall be the Lord's ; and O grant me sufficiency, that 
I may abound in every good work ; O let me be the messenger of 
consolation to the poor ! Here am I, Lord, send me. Let me have 
the honor to administer to the necessities of my brethren. I am in- 
deed unworthy to wipe the feet of the least of the servants of my 
Lord, much more unworthy of this glorious commission ; and yet, 
O send me, for thy goodness is free ! send whom thou wilt on em- 
bassies to the kings and rulers of the earth, but let me be a servant 
to the servants of my Lord. Let me administer consolation and re- 
lief to the afflicted members of my exalted and glorious Redeemer. 
Let this be my lot, and I give the glories of the world to the wind. 

Pursuant to this sacred vow, which as she expresses herself in 
another place of her manuscript, was not made in an hour of fear 
and distress, but in the joy and gratitude of her soul, she not only 
avoided all superfluous expenses in dress and luxury, but through an 
excess of benevolence, if there can be any excess in such a godlike 
disposition, to enlarge her abilities of doing good to her fellow crea- 
tures, she denied herself what might in some sense be called the ne- 
cessaries of life. 

Misery and indigence were a sufficient recommendation to her 
compassionate regard and assistance, yet she showed a distinguished 
readiness to alleviate the afflictions of persons of merit and virtue; 
and one, who had the best opportunity of making the observation, de- 
clared, that she never knew any such apply to Mrs. Rowe without 
success. The first lime she accepted of an acknowledgment from 
the bookseller for any of her works, she bestowed the whole sum on 
a family in distress, and there is great reason to believe that she em- 
ployed all the money that she ever received on such an account in as 
generous a manner : and once, when she had not by her a sum large 

29 



226 MEMOIRS OF 

enough to supply the like necessities of another family, she readily 
sold a piece of plate for this purpose. It was her custom, on going 
abroad, to furnish herself with pieces of money of different value, that 
she might relieve any objects of compassion who should fall in her 
way, according to their several degrees of merit or indigence. Nor 
was her munificence confined to the neighborhood of the place where 
she lived, but, during her residence in the country, she sent large 
sums to London, and other distant parts. She contributed to some 
designs that had the appearance of charity, though she could not ap- 
prove of them in every respect, observing, that it was fit sometimes 
to give for the credit of religion, when other inducements were want- 
ing, that the professors of Christianity might not be charged with 
covetousness ; a vice which she so much abhorred, that scarce any 
grosser kind of immorality could more effectually exclude a person 
from her friendship. " I never," said she, " grudge any money but 
when it is laid out upon myself, for I consider how much it would buy 
for the poor." Besides the sums which she gave away, and the dis- 
tribution of books on practical subjects, she employed her own hands 
in labors of charity to clothe the necessitous. This she did not on- 
ly for the natives of the Lower Palatinate, when they were driven 
from their country by the rage of war, which appeared a calamity 
peculiarly worthy of compassion, but it was her frequent employment 
to make garments of almost every kind, and bestow them on those 
who wanted them. She discovered a strong sense of humanity, and 
often shewed her exquisite concern for the unhappy, by weeping 
over their distresses. These were the generous tears of virtue, and 
not of any feminine weakness, for she was rarely observed to weep 
at afflictions that befell herself. She was indeed so sensibly affected 
with the miseries of the poor, as not only to send her servants ta ex- 
amine what they stood in need of when they were sick, but often vis- 
ited them in person, when they were so wretched that their houses 
were not fit for. her to enter into, and even when their distempers 
were highly malignant and contagious. One kind of munificence in 
which she greatly delighted, was causing children to be taught to 
read and work, These she furnished with supplies of clothing, as 
well as bibles, and other necessary books of instruction. This she 
did not only at Frome, but also at a neighboring village, where part 
of her estate lay : and when she met in the streets with children of 
promising countenances who were perfectly unknown to her, if upon 
inquiry it appeared that through the poverty of their parents they 
were not put to school, she added them to the number of those who 
were taught at her own expense. She condescended herself to in- 
struct them in the plain and necessary principles and duties of reli- 
gion ; and the grief she felt when any of them did not answer the 
hopes she had entertained, was equal to the great satisfaction she re- 
ceived, when it appeared that her care and bounty had been well 
placed. She was also a contributor to a charitable institution at 



MRS. ELIZABETH ROWE. 227 

Frome, of a more public nature, though, according to the general 
custom of such schools, all who were educated in it, were obliged to 
worship God in that one particular form from which she herself took 
the liberty to dissent. In truth, her charities were not confined to 
those of her own party or sentiments, but bestowed on indigent per- 
sons of almost all the sects into which Christianity is divided ; and 
even those whose religious opinions seemed to her of the most dan- 
gerous consequence, were large recipients of her bounty. Nor was 
her beneficence limited to those who in strict terms might be called 
poor, for, as she was wont to say, "It was one of the greatest bene- 
fits that could be done to mankind, to free them from the cares and 
anxieties that attend a narrow fortune ;" in pursuance of which gen- 
erous sentiments she has been often known to make large presents to 
persons who were not in the last extremes of indigence. With re- 
gard to those whose circumstances were such that the acceptance of 
alms might have put their modesty to some pain, she studied to spare 
their blushes while she relieved their wants. When one such person 
of her acquaintance was in some distress, she contrived to lose at 
play a sum of money sufficient to supply the necessity of the case, 
which was perhaps the only time she touched a card in her whole 
life. She possessed in an eminent degree the art of giving, [for she 
knew how to heighten every favor by the ready and obliging man- 
ner in which she conferred it. Indeed to the poor she seemed a 
ministering angel. Her goodness prevented their requests ;* and 
smiles, gentle language, and the warmest expressions of good-will, 
always accompanied her substantial acts of mercy. The distressed 
were encouraged to d^close all their wants by the kindest assurances 
of relief, and she treated them with the sweetness and easy goodness 
of a friend rather than the superiority of a benefactress ; nor was 
she inclined to take offense at the appearance of ingratitude in her 
dependents. When she chanced to overhear some unthankful poor, 
who sat down at her servants' table, murmur at their food, though 
she had fed upon the same herself, she only put this gentle construc- 
tion on their behavior, "That they expected something better than 
ordinary at her table;" and she was so far from resenting this inde- 
cent delicacy of appetite, that she did not even at that time omit the 
alms she usually gave when indigent persons were entertained at her 
house. 

It is truly astonishing how the moderate estate Mrs. Rowe possess- 
ed could supply such various and extensive benefactions ; and her 
own sense of this once broke out to an intimate friend. " I am sur- 



* " These hands will shortly be stiff and useless in the grave, that are now capa- 
ble of distributing to the necessities of the poor and afflicted, if thou wouldstgive 
me the glad commission. send me the ready messenger of consolation to then- 
wants and distress! Hear their blessings and prayers for me! Betbre they asked I 
have heard their wants." — A passage in her manuscript Devotions. 



228 MEMOIRS, &C. 

prised," said she to her, " how it is possible my estate should answer 
all these things, when I consider what I do, and yet I never want 
money." This she only spoke to give honor to the divine blessing, 
which, as she was wont to acknowledge with great piety, protect- 
ed her from losses, and succeeded all her affairs ; for it would be 
extreme injustice to interpret her expressions of gratitude to the good- 
ness of Providence in a different manner, since her great care to 
conceal her charities from the observation of mortals, gives the high- 
est evidence that no love of human applause tainted the purity of her 
benevolent dispositions. 



229 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD 



Anna, Countess of Seafield, the eldest daughter of Sir William 
Dunbar of Durn, son to the Laird of Grangehill, and Janet Brodie 
his wife, grandchild of the Lord Brodie, was born in the year 1672, 
and bred up virtuously from her infancy by her parents, and particu- 
larly by her grandmother, Lady Dunbar, who was a virtuous and pi- 
ous woman, and took care to instil into her grandchild's mind a sense 
of piety and devotion from her very infancy. There appeared in her, 
from her childhood, a sweetness of temper and disposition which 
made her agreeable to all that saw her, and which was always ob- 
servable in her to the last. 

When she was a young girl with her parents, her mother wonld 
have had her learn housewifery ; but her inclination led her rather to 
read, and therefore she stayed mostly in her closet, and gave herself 
much to reading, and still avoided the company of the servants, hav- 
ing an abhorrence of the profaneness and ribaldry with which they 
are ready to defile one another's ears, and pollute their hearts. And 
in this sense, one's great enemies are oftentimes those of one's own 
house ; and children, in their younger years, are greatly corrupted 
by the example and speeches of servants. 

Her parents, knowing how ready young people are to corrupt one 
another, and that one of the best means to keep them from evil is to 
preserve them from the occasion of it, chose not to send her to the 
city, to the women's schools, according to the ordinary custom, there 
to be trained up in the things which become those of her own age 
and quality to learn ; but to keep a virtuous woman within their 
house to attend their daughter, and instruct her in such things as 
were fit for her to learn. 

She began very early to read good and devout books, and took de- 
light to hear them read to her ; and when a portion of some of them had 
been read, she would retire to her closet, and was often observed 
there on her knees in prayer to God. When she was about eight 
years of age, while reading the Holy Scriptures, she happened to 
read these words, " the wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the 
nations that forget God." On which, reflecting on her own sinful 
state, she was struck again with great terror, looking on herself as 
one of those against whom this is threatened. In this state her 
grandmother did greatly comfort her ; and when she would be in the 
greatest anguish, these two passages of holy Scripture gave cure and 
relief to her spirit : " One day with the Lord is as a thousand years : 
and a thousand years as one day. When the wicked turneth away 



230 MEMOIRS OF 

from his wickedness which he hath committed, and doth that which 
is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive." However, the deep 
impression of this threatening remained on her spirit for several years. 

When she was with her parents, her mother happened to be visit- 
ed with a severe and long sickness, during which she constantly at- 
tended her, and ministered to her in every thing, sitting up by her in 
the night to serve her ; and the seeing her mother so afflicted, and 
the apprehensions of her death, and the solitary nights she spent in 
attending her, made her very thoughtful ; so that she employed them 
much in reading the Scriptures and devout books, and came thereby 
to have a deep sense of her duty to God, and received her parent's 
blessing for her so pious care of her ; of the good of all which she 
was afterwards very sensible. 

In the sixteenth year of her age she was married to the Hon. 
James Ogilvie, second son to the Earl of Findlater, who was after- 
wards created Earl of Seafield, and whose eminent parts appeared 
in the discharge of two great offices of state, that of secretary of state, 
and that of lord high chancellor, to which he was advanced in this and 
the last reign, first to the one, and then to the other; and that for 
two several times, continuing in the last till the late union of both 
kingdoms into one, of Great Britain. 

When he came first to ask her for his wife, her father having told 
her of it the night before, some of her acquaintances pressed her to 
look out of her window to see him while he alighted, for she had nev- 
er seen him, but she would not do it. When he first addressed her, 
she gave him no other return but that she was to obey her parents, 
and be directed by them. When all was agreed to, he made her 
a present of a rich diamond ring, but she would by no means accept 
of it till the marriage was solemnized : she considering that many 
have been contracted, who have not been married together : and 
that if it should so happen with her, such a present could not be 
kept, and therefore she chose rather not to accept of it. 

The entering into the married state so young, where she foresaw 
so many difficulties, made her very thoughtful, and therefore she had 
recourse to God, and begged earnestly counsel and direction from 
him. And this she said she did afterwards in all her difficulties, and 
that she found God was pleased to direct her and bring her through 
them, she knew not how. 

When she was first married, her husband had no plentiful fortune 
in the world, although he had the prospect of being his father's heir, 
his elder brother, though alive, being very infirm ; yet the estate of 
the family was under such burdens, that it was scarcely better than 
none at all. This made her give great application to a careful and 
prudent management ; and their worldly wealth still increasing, and 
God blessing them with a plentiful fortune, and her husband being 
for the most part from home, and committing to her the care and 
management of his own estate, she did it with great application and 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 231 

fidelity. She looked on herself as the steward of it for her husband, 
and that she was obliged to be faithful to her trust. 

When her first son was born, being of a thin body, she was pre- 
vailed with to give him to be nursed by another woman, who proving 
a very bad nurse, occasioned much sickness to the child, which 
brought him to the gates of death, for which the mother had deep re- 
morse ; and having met with the same affliction in her second child, 
for which she was touched with like trouble, she resolved afterwards 
to nurse her own children, which she accordingly essayed in the next 
child, her present eldest daughter; but, after two months' suckling, 
she became so weak that she was forced to give it over. 

Though her husband was for the most part, always abroad, being 
employed in the public affairs, yet she kept still at home, being care- 
ful to educate and bring up her children in virtue and piety, and 
looked well to the ways of her household, and ate not the bread of 
idleness : a rare example for the ladies of this age. 

She was most careful to nip the first buds of vice that appeared in 
her children, and to pull them up by the root. She still inculcated 
to them the heinousness of their disobedience to God, and their sin- 
ning against him, and would not forgive them the offense they had 
done, till they had first earnestly begged pardon of God. And she 
made them still conceive that the reason of their obedience to her 
commands, was because it was the will of God, and he commanded 
it. Her eldest son, in his childhood, when about five or six years of 
age, having learned from the servants to take the name of God in 
vain, she wrought in him such a sense of the baseness and heinous- 
ness of that crime, that ever afterwards he had a horror of it. At 
another time, about the eighth or ninth year of his age, she having 
given him a little money to carry to a beggar whom she saw at the 
gate, he was tempted by a boy of the same age with himself, to buy 
figs with it. This coming to her ears, she so laid before him the 
heinousness of this sin, the greatness of the theft he had committed in 
robbing the poor, the dreadfulness of the account he must have to 
give at the last judgment for this uncharitableness, when we shall be 
judged by Jesus Christ according to our charity or want of it ; and 
did so inculcate upon him the thoughts of death and judgment, heav- 
en and hell, as made him to tremble, and gave him a deep sense of 
that charity and compassion which we ought to have for the poor and 
miserable. There was nothing she was more careful to curb in her 
children than the least inclination to lying or deceit. She was also 
careful to suppress in them the least inclination to pride and self-con- 
ceit. And when she found them lifted up, she would take occasion 
to humble them, and so to point out to them their faults as to mortify 
their pride. 

Though it was still her care to make no shew in her devotion, and 
not to be seen of men ; yet, for the most part, she constantly retired 
thrice a day for prayer and meditation on the holy Scriptures ; and 



232 



MEMOIRS OF 



and in particular on the Lord's-day in the afternoon ; and frequently 
took in some one of her children with her, keeping her child under 
her arm while she prayed with great devotion ; and afterwards would 
sit down and speak seriously to the child of the obedience and love 
he owed to God, the duty of depending upon him, and having re- 
course to him by prayer on all occasions, repenting and confessing 
his sins before him. And she would then reprove him mildly of any 
particular faults she thought he was guilty of, and recommend to 
him the particular duties he ought to perform ; and especially to em- 
ploy the Lord's-day in reading and meditating on the holy Scrip- 
tures and in prayer. She would then dismiss the child to get by 
heart a portion of a psalm, or some other part of the holy Scripture ; 
and after she had ended her own devotions, would call in the child 
again, and take an account of it. She accustomed the children, 
from their infancy, to pray morning and evening, and recommended 
to them, before they fell asleep, to call to mind some passage of 
Scripture, and meditate upon it ; and when they awoke in the morn- 
ing, to do the same. 

About a year after their marriage, they came to live with the Earl 
of Findlater, her husband's father, at his house of Cullen ; where, 
the Countess of Findlater being deceased, the whole care of the fam- 
ily was committed to her ; in the management of which she discov- 
ered a wonderful prudence and discretion, far beyond what could 
have been expected from a young lady of eighteen years of age. 
There were in the family, besides the lady and her own husband, 
the Earl of Findlater, his eldest son Lord Deskfoord, the earl's 
two daughters, both of them older than herself, and a younger son : 
and these were of such different tempers and interests, that it was 
not easy to oblige one without disobliging the other ; and yet this 
young lady so lived among them, as to obtain the esteem and good- 
will of all, and to avoid a concern in their little quarrels and resent- 
ments. She heard them complain of each other, without offending 
the person complained of, and was displeasing to none of them. 

The Earl of Seafield had been in public office several years, both 
in Edinburgh and London, before he obliged his lady to leave her 
country-house to come to live with him at court or in the city. The 
ladies used to express their surprise why she lived still in the coun- 
try, and concluded her lord was ashamed to bring her to the court 
and the city, because of her rural breeding. They earnestly pres- 
sed him to bring her up, and they pleased themselves with the fan- 
cy of the sport and divertisement they should have in the manners, 
speech, conversation, and behavior of a country lass, and how odd 
she would look when she was out of her element. She knew not 
what it was to disobey her husband ; and as she was well pleased to 
live in the country as long as he saw it fit, so she made no scruple, 
upon his call, to come to the city. Before she came first to Edin- 
burgh, she had never been in a town so remarkable as Aberdeen, 



THE COUNTESS OP SEAFIELD. 233 

and therefore one would think everything might seem strange to her; 
but, on the contrary, she did not appear at all affected with the nov- 
elty of things. When the ladies and others came to visit her, they 
were surprised to find how much they had been mistaken in their 
opinion of her, and that, instead of rural manners, they beheld a lady 
endued with all the valuable accomplishments of the breeding of a 
court and city, and tainted with none of their vices. Her behavior 
towards others was so courteous, that never any one who saw her, 
of what quality soever, thought her wanting in the respect due to 
them. Whatever occasions offered of doing good offices to others, 
she was ready to embrace them. In conversation she had an easi- 
ness of expressing herself in proper words, without the least affecta- 
tion. She was so well versed both in ancient and modern history, 
and in the present state of Europe, and in matters of religion, that no 
subject of conversation did usually occur to which she was a stran- 
ger. She had nothing of the coquetry of the age ; her behavior in 
all things was perfectly modest and unaffected ; and both in Scotland 
and England, in the opinion of the most discerning persons, she ob- 
tained the character of one of the most accomplished ladies in Brit- 
ain, and had the good will and esteem of all ranks of people. 

The Earl of Seafield being engaged in the interest and service 
of the court at the time when the discontents of the nation swelled to 
a great height, he became one chief butt of their displeasure, which 
is the ordinary fate of ministers of state. His lady on all occasions 
stood up for the honor and interest of her husband, and to vindicate 
him from the reproaches cast upon him ; and yet, nevertheless, re- 
tained the general good will, so that when the rabble arose at Edin- 
burgh with respect to Darien, and broke the glass windows, and did 
other indignities to houses which wanted illuminations ; though there 
were none in the Earl of Seafield's house, where his lady then was, 
and though they were on their march to commit insolencies there ; 
yet, upon a suggestion made them that none was there but this virtu- 
ous lady, and that it would be ungenerous to treat her indiscreetly, 
they turned their course another way. 

In the year 1706, her lord being then Chancellor of Scotland, and 
about to return from court, and having desired her to meet him at 
Edinburgh against such a time, while she was making ready for the 
journey, she was seized suddenly in her closet, at the moment when 
she was employed in preparing to receive the sacrament on the next 
Lord's-day, with a violent vomiting of blood, which returned more 
than once, and brought her to the very gates of death. God was 
pleased to call her, not only by this sudden and unexpected stroke, 
but by the checks and motions of his Holy Spirit; and she was struck 
with a deep sense of God's wonderful mercies to her, and of her 
abuse of them. She had before her the prospect of death and eter- 
nity, and felt how unfit she was to enter into it. On the review of 
her whole life, though she had not been guilty of what the world 

30 



234 MEMOIRS OF 

would account heinous crimes, yet she found that she had been seek- 
ing herself and her own reputation more than God ; and saw what a 
difference there was between that virtue which is founded on true hu- 
mility and the sincere love of God, and is the work of his grace and 
Spirit, and that which is only the effect of self-love. She was struck 
with deep remorse that in all things she had sought herself more than 
God, and by ardent prayers implored his mercy and compassion for 
Christ Jesus' sake. And while she was in the extremity of weak- 
ness, she caused her eldest daughter to read to her the fifth chapter 
of Matthew, and made so excellent a discourse on the eight beati- . 
tudes therein contained, that it greatly affected and left a deep im- 
pression on the spirits of all who were present. She devoted herself 
wholly to God, and begged earnestly, if it were his holy will, that 
he would be pleased to spare her yet awhile, even but for one year 
more. The Lord heard her prayer, and, beyond the expectation of 
all, she was restored to health, and had the least she desired grant- 
ed her, so that her soul was full of devout adoration. And in this 
divine frame and disposition of spirit, she wrote meditations on the 
Lord's prayer, which, when she perused them, served to enkindle her 
devotion. 

The whole of these meditations are inserted in the manuscript. A 
few extracts from them will serve to mark their character. 

" O holy Lord God, come then and rule in my heart. Be my 
king, and establish thyself a throne in my affections ; and govern my 
will, that I may be a most obedient subject unto thee. O hasten the 
day when all knees shall bow before thee, and all tongues shall con- 
fess thy name, when the gospel shall shine gloriously, and Jew and 
Gentile shall, in their heart and practice, acknowledge the Messiah, 
and turn their affections to the great and mighty God." 

" O God, I desire to give up my will unto thee, and let thy will 
be done in and by me ; and not only in me, but in all that is mine. 

pull down every thought that raiseth itself in disobedience to thee, 
and every base imagination, that thy will may be fully obeyed, not 
only by me, but in all the earth. Give thy enlightening Spirit, that 
thy will may be known, and that it may dissipate the thick clouds of 
iniquity that darken or go between thee and us. Lord, let me no 
longer satisfy myself with praying, Thy will be done ; but by an ac- 
tual giving myself to be guided by thy revealed will, and by submis- 
sion to thy providential will, may I follow thee in all thy steps." 

" Lord Jesus, thou art the bread of life : give me that bread which 
shall feed me to life everlasting ; and grant, that as I cannot live with- 
out a dependence on thee, so may I never desire to live without it, 
but that the eyes of my soul may be always looking towards thee, 
and receiving with thankfulness my temporal and spiritual food from 
thy hands. O that I could give my heart entirely to thee ! Lord, 

1 am a poor defiled wretch ; but it is by thy blood I must be cleans- 
ed, whose I am, and to whom I do resign myself, soul and body, and 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 235 

all that is mine. This is but what gratitude obliges me to, since he 
gave himself for sinners, of whom I am the chief." 

" O holy Lord Jesus, grant that my passions may be subdued to 
thee, and that all my revenge and anger may be against sin ; that I 
may strive, through thy strength, to root it out of my heart, that I may 
be a declared enemy to the devil, the world and the flesh, whom I 
renounced in my baptism, and have declared war against often in 
the vows which I have made to thee." 

" O keep me from relying on any thing but Christ, and him cru- 
cified, and on thy abounding mercy. O holy Lord God, purge me 
from sin, and pardon the sins of my holy duties, my wandering and 
vain thoughts in prayer. O take away my hardness and stupidity of 
heart ; possess my will, and fill my affections ! Thou art the only ob- 
ject that is worthy of all love ! Thou only canst satisfy a right placed 
affection !" 

These are the excellent meditations which this lady then formed 
on this divine prayer ; and they manifest not only the clearness and 
exactness of her thoughts, but also the deep sense and feeling of her 
heart with respect to the greatness and goodness of God, and the 
infinite obligations she had to love him with all her heart, and her 
great undutifulness to so good a God, and the hopes she had in his 
mercy through Jesus Christ, to which she flies, yielding up her will 
wholly unto his, and resolving in the strength of his grace to live 
from henceforth wholly unto him, that he might reign and rule in her 
heart, and no idol might find any place there. Nothing of this was 
known till a few days before her death, when she desired one of her 
maids to look for such a paper in her cabinet, and bring it to her, that 
some parts of it being read to her she might the more reproach herself 
for not having walked answerably to such powerful calls, and such 
solemn engagements. 

The Countess of Seafield continued in a tolerable state of health 
for about a year after her former sickness; and she was then seized 
again with the same malady, and had the sentence of death in her- 
self, that she might not trust in herself, but in God who raiseth the 
dead. She was deeply sensible how far short she had come in an- 
swering her former call from God, and her engagements to him ; and 
she had recourse to his infinite mercy, begging he would yet spare 
her to recover strength, before she went hence. Her prayer was 
again heard and her spitting of blood was stayed. Recovering some 
degree of bodily health, and being desired by her lord to see him at 
Edinburgh, public affairs requiring his return to court, she went thith- 
er and staid for some time. She was here seized with a violent 
cough, which continued till she was delivered of a son. For a few 
days after this, she was more easy ; but in a little time the cough and 
the hectic returned with more violence than ever. 

Soon after her return home, being low in health and in agony of 
mind, she happened to read that passage of holy Scripture, 1 Thcss 



236 MEMOIRS OF 

v. 16. "Rejoice evermore, pray without ceasing, in everything 
give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning 
you." She was thereby greatly comforted ; and the duty of contin- 
ual resignation to the will of God, and of continual prayer to him, 
was thereby so pressed upon her, that she was led to more frequent 
prayer, and to the entire surrender of her heart to God. She com- 
plained indeed, of frequent distractions, but she begged that He would 
accept the will for the deed ; and in all her agonies and troubles she was 
enabled to resign herself to the divine will, and to comfort herself thus : 
" His wrath endureth but for a moment. In his favor is life. Weep- 
ing may endure for anight, but joy cometh in the morning." 

Some weeks after she was brought to bed, being under great pain 
and weakness of body, and agony of spirit, she asked her son, what 
apprehensions he had of death, when of late he was so low in his 
health at London and given over by the physicians, whether he 
thought he should then die ? be replied, that he had not at that time 
any positive impression on his spirit that he should then die, as she 
seemed to have, but was very uncertain what the event might be. 
On this, she asked what he then thought of himself in case he should 
die ? To which he answered, that when he considered his own great 
impurity, and called to mind many instances of it, and also of his great 
ingratitude to God, notwithstanding God's tender and continual care 
of him, he judged that it was hardly possible he should ever be ad- 
mitted into his presence, or have any communion with him ; but that 
when he was in these thoughts, he happened, in reading his Bible, 
to meet with this passage of Scripture : " But let us who are of the 
day be sober, putting on the breast plate of faith and love, and for 
an helmet the hope of salvation ; for God hath not appointed us to 
wrath, but to obtain salvation by our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for 
us that we may live with him ;" that this immediately encouraged him 
to hope that, through the merits of Jesus Christ, his sins might be 
done away, and greatly comforted him ; and that afterwards, look- 
ing a little farther, he observed these words : " Rejoice evermore : 
pray without ceasing : in every thing give thanks : for this is the will 
of God in Christ Jesus concerning you :" which words suggested to 
him how great reason he had to be thankful for whatever might be 
the will of God concerning him, since God had ever been so good to 
him, notwithstanding his ingratitude and impurity ; and since his will 
could not but be the best, that therefore he should never let grief or 
melancholy prevail over him, but should comfort himself with his 
being commanded to rejoice evermore, and in every thing to give 
thanks ; and that in all his infirmities of body and heaviness of mind, 
and temptations from the devil, the world, and the flesh, he should 
always have recourse to the remedy which God himself had prescri- 
bed to him, viz. to pray without ceasing. He added that on many 
occasions afterwards, when he happened to be in any of those cir- 
cumstances, the remembrance of these passages of Scripture had 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 237 

comforted and supported him. On this his mother expressed a great 
deal of joy and said, that when she herself, in the last winter, had 
been weak in health, and in great anguish of mind on his account, 
the same passages of Scripture had greatly refreshed her spirit. She 
confessed she had been far from rejoicing in God's will, and praying 
without ceasing ; but she hoped God would mercifully look upon her 
infirmities, while she resolved, forgetting what was past, to do the 
best for the future. 

She had now a prospect of her approaching end, and applied 
wholly to prepare for it. She abandoned the concern of all other 
things and was taken up wholly with the thoughts of death and eternity. 
She often said, that it was quite a different thing to meditate on death 
at a distance, and to behold it just at the door. She was struck with a 
deep sense of her undutifulness to God, of the misspending of her 
time, of her having been an unfaithful steward of what he had com- 
mitted to her trust, of her unfaithfulness to her former calls and sol- 
emn engagements, and that now, when the cry was to go out and 
meet the Bridegroom, she might have had oil in her lamp but she 
had slumbered and slept. She continued for several days in great 
distress of mind, judging and condemning herself, confessing that 
she had sought to please herself more than God, and that self-love 
and the cares of the world had occupied her thoughts more than God 
and that she was not worthy of any regard from him. Thus she 
poured out her soul before God day and night, through a deep sense 
of her sins and a dread of the divine judgment; often saying, " There 
is no peace to the wicked, saith my God." And being told by some 
who visited her, that no repentance was acceptable to God, but that 
which flowed from the true love of God, and not from self-love and 
the dread of hell, and she, doubting if hers was any thing else, was 
ready to despond. And when to comfort her it was told her that 
she had led a very virtuous life, and so had no reason to entertain 
such fears, she said it was far from being so, and that she had sought 
only to please herself. 

Being in this state, and bewailing to one her sinful condition, and 
that although God had preserved her from gross and scandalous sins, 
yet when she placed herself in God's presence, and beheld his puri- 
ty, she saw in herself nothing but vileness, having sought only to 
please herself, and not God ; it was said in reply, that she had rea- 
son to bless God, who had opened her eyes to see her own sinful- 
ness, and that this was a token of his great mercy to her ; though 
her sins were great and many, yet the Lord was " not willing that 
any should perish, but that all should come to repentance." " He 
came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance." She saw 
with what compassion Jesus treated sinners, while he was upon 
earth. " Daughter, be of good comfort, thy sins are forgiven thee." 
" But," said she, " I have misspent all my life ; and now no more 
time remains for inc." It was told her that neither the greatness nor 



238 MEMOIRS OF 

the multitude of sins would exclude from God's mercy those who 
should seek him and turn to him with all their hearts ; and that al- 
though her time was now short, yet she ought to consider that not 
only they who were called at the third, sixth, aud ninth hours receiv- 
ed their penny, but he also who was called at the eleventh. She 
said, that " God had some years ago mercifully called her, and had 
she answered that call, she might have been a grown Christian before 
now, but she had slumbered and slept." It was told her that she 
had great reason to deplore this ; but such was the infinite goodness 
and mercy of God, that he continued yet to call her : " Behold, I 
stand at the door and knock ; if any man will hear my voice, and 
open the door, I will come unto him." — " O my God," she said, "I 
would open my heart wholly to thee : come and take possession of it." 
Some, it was further argued, who had been powerfully called, and yet 
had afterwards not only slumbered but fallen into grievous sins, have 
been again called and found mercy. David had been called in his 
youth, yet afterwards fell into grievous sins ; but God had mercy 
on him, and granted him the grace of repentance and pardon. Pe- 
ter was called to be our Lord's disciple, and followed him, but yet 
afterwards denied his Lord ; and when his Lord looked on him, he 
went out and wept bitterly : and we see with what compassion our 
Lord treated him : he did not so much as upbraid him with his sin, 
but said, " Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me ? feed my sheep." 
" I do not," she observed, " in the least distrust the mercy, the 
boundless mercy and compassion of God, but the deceitfulness of 
my own heart, which makes me think I am penitent, when perhaps 
it is only the fear of hell which affects me ; and should I recover 
again, I should again slumber and sleep." You have indeed reason 
to distrust yourself, it was said to her, and we are bid to work out 
our salvation with fear and trembling ; but he that will judge you is 
the Lord who died for you. Therefore you are to resign yourself 
wholly to your merciful God and Savior, and to labor, by his grace, 
to have the present temper of your heart all contrition, all love, all 
adoration. God of his mercy has given you this disposition at pres- 
ent, and he will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking 
flax, until he bring forth judgment unto victory. He now has given 
you a heart to adore and love him, and to abhor and hate yourself 
for having been so undutiful to him. It is God who worketh this ho- 
ly disposition in your heart, and will perfect it unto the end : and as 
to your fear, in case your health be restored, of returning to a state 
of slumber, the Lord will either strengthen you to resist temptations, 
if he see it is for his glory to continue you longer in this life, or he 
will remove you out of the hazard of temptation. " His will," she 
said, " be done ! I have often entreated the Lord to give me a token 
of his favor before I go hence ; but he leads me through this dark 
path of the valley and shadow of death." It was replied to her, 
you have no reason to murmur at this, but to bear it with patience. 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD, 239 

You are not worthy of any comfort here ; and therefore, if he think 
not fit to grant you any in this dark path, his will be done. If he see 
it expedient for you, he will not fail to grant it at last ; but this is the 
time of your trial, and God sees it fit to visit you, not only with bodi- 
ly afflictions but also with affliction of spirit, for your greater purifi- 
cation, and to wean your heart from the love of the world and of your- 
self, and to make you more humble, and to let you see the vanity of 
all earthly things, which can give no ease to a wounded spirit, and to 
make you thirst the more earnestly for God, and feel that nothing can 
satisfy you without him. Besides, the graces you are to labor after 
are Faith, Hope (not Assurance,) and Charity. So in the midst of 
this darkness, you must still hope in God, even against hope, resign 
yourself wholly to him, and ardently love him. They tell of one of 
the fathers of the desert, that a devout young man having committed 
himself to his conduct, to be trained up by him in a divine life, the 
devil, transforming himself into an angel of light, appeared to the fa- 
ther, and bid him be no longer solicitous in training up that youth, 
for he was ordained for eternal torment. The old man was exceed- 
ingly distressed at this ; which the youth observing, entreated to 
know the cause of his grief, and having learnt it, he said, " O let not 
this trouble you, good father ; for whatever may become of me here- 
after, I will only set myself to love my God the more ardently while 
here, and to praise him and rejoice in his goodness." At last the 
old man was convinced it was a delusion, and was comforted. The 
countess then said, " O my good God, I will ever praise thee ; I 
will never cease to praise thee ; I hope only in thy mercy, and in the 
merit of my blessed Redeemer ; I resign myself wholly to thee ; I 
will never cease to love thee ; O take the full possession of my heart, 
and never let any creature enter there any more !" You must not, 
it was again said to her, be discouraged if the Lord should not pres- 
ently grant your request. Remember the Canaanitish woman. Je- 
sus at first seemed to take no notice of her, and, when prevailed 
upon to speak to her, he seemed to deny her request. Yet this was 
but to make her faith and prayer the more ardent. Be not then dis- 
couraged, but wait for God : blessed are all they that wait for him. 
" O what reason have I," she said, " to wait for my God, who has 
waited for me so long, whose patience and long suffering have been 
so great towards me! Yes, my God, I will wait: thy will be done, 
not mine !" Besides, it was added, you must not despond, though 
God should not think fit to grant you any token of his favor in this 
world ; for our Lord Jesus, to support his followers under such in- 
ward darkness and trials, was pleased, even upon the cross, to suffer 
the eclipse of the light of his Father's countenance, so that this in- 
ward cross of spirit was more painful than the outward one ; which 
made him cry out, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?" 
If he who knew no sin yet became sin for us, underwent such ago- 
nies to bring us to God, why should we think it strange if God should 



240 MEMOIRS OF 

see fit thus to bruise us, that the old man, self, and corrupt nature, 
may be crucified in us ? On this, the countess said, " O my Savior, 
was this thy state ; O why should I complain, who deserve not the 
least favor ? Did Jesus on the cross cry out, as one forsaken of his 
God, and shall I complain at wanting the sense of his favor ? O my 
God, I resign myself wholly to thee : thy will be done, not mine. 
Thou canst do nothing amiss. I cast myself down at his feet : if I 
perish it shall be there. Though he slay me yet will I trust in him. 
I will never cease to praise him, never cease to love him." 

These conversations passed about ten or twelve days before her 
departure out of this life ; and it pleased God to give her from that 
time a more quiet resignation to his will, and a humble hope in his in- 
finite mercy, and her heart seemed always with God and in a divine 
frame. She had a profound view of the purity of God, combined 
with a deep sense of her own vileness ; and these considerations made 
her sometimes despond, as being wholly unfit for communion with 
God. But she would be again comforted, and say, " yet my tongue 
shall never cease to praise him while I have a being." She had 
deep views also of the approaching judgment ; so that when spoken 
to about worldly affairs, she would say, " what signifies all this to 
me ? I am shortly to appear before my Creator and Judge." 

After having been asked about her spiritual taste, or after silent 
prayer to God, she would sometimes express great spiritual delight ; 
but she would then check herself under an apprehension that she was 
deluding herself, and say, that it was nothing but passion (meaning 
natural emotion) in her, and not a true settled principle of religion, 
for she had often had such fits of devotion before. She therefore 
begged earnestly that God would settle a solid principle of religion in 
her heart ; that Christ might dwell in her heart by faith, and she 
might be rooted and grounded in divine love. She never tasted any 
thing without begging God's blessing, or having some ejaculation, as, 
" Most blessed God, I do not deserve this, who am an unworthy 
wretch : but thou art good and dost good : Lord, give me thy bles- 
sing with it !" 

She had a deep sense of her sins, and was desirous to take shame 
to herself, and to acknowledge them before all, expressing great in- 
dignation against herself on account of them. " What value I," said 
she, " my reputation ? I will confess my sins for they are great and 
many. I am sorry that any one should have thought me good. I 
loathe and abhor myself for my sins." There were two sins which 
she especially acknowledged with great grief and indignation against 
herself. One was, the misspending of her time, in being so much 
taken up about the cares and concerns of the world ; the other, in 
extending her pity and her hands so little in the relief of the poor. 
She said, that when first married to her husband, their circumstances 
were but mean in the world ; yet God had since blessed them with a 
plentiful fortune, and that she had not, as she ought to have done 3 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 241 

clothed the naked, and fed the hungry, and relieved the miserable ; 
and though it was true she looked upon herself as intrusted with all 
by her husband, yet both of them ought to have considered that they 
were but stewards intrusted by God, and she might have relieved the 
necessitous without wronging her husband. She entreated, that 
whoever thought themselves wronged by her, they would let her 
know it, and she would make reparation according to her power. 
When any of the neighbors came into the room where she was, she 
would ask them if she had wronged them in any thing, and desired to 
know it, that she might repair it. She called for some written obli- 
gations she had received of several persons, and cancelled them, de- 
livering them up to them. 

She was most patient in her trouble, had nothing of fretfulness, but 
was calm and easy to all about her. She refused no medicine that 
was offered to her, however disagreeable to the taste, and although 
she had a strong aversion to all drugs. She labored in every thing 
to deny herself. 

She expressed an ardent love to God, and desired to be wholly 
his, and prayed that he might take the entire possession of her heart. 
She would often say, " O my God, take thou the full possession of 
my soul : shed abroad thy love in my heart : fill it with thy love : let 
there be no room for the world : let nothing of this world obtain ad- 
mission, O thou my God, my Lord, my all!" She often repeated 
these words, " Peace on earth, good will to men : O how great is thy 
good will towards men !" She said she loved all the world, all man- 
kind, all her neighbors, and only hated herself. 

About six or seven days before her death she sent for her children, 
that she might give them her last advice and blessing. To her 
son, Lord Deskfoord, she said, that he must be as a mother to the 
rest, and see to their education ; and prayed that God would bless 
him and direct him in all his actions. If there were any worldly 
thing she desired, it was that the family might stand in his person. 
But, checking herself, she said, " we ought not to seek worldly things 
of God, and that she was not worthy that there should be the least 
remembrance of her after death." She only begged, therefore, that 
God would give him a heart in every thing to love and fear him. 
To the Lady Betty she said, she had been her idol from her infancy, 
and that she had loved her but too well. As she must now be mis- 
tress of the family, she bid her labor for a serious and compos- 
ed temper of mind. She urged it upon her never to be idle, but 
always to be employed, and to spend much of her time in praying 
and reading devout books. She bid her also be kind to her sister, 
as, notwithstanding the badness of her temper, she had a particular 
kindness for her. Above all things, she charged her continually to 
love and fear God, and both in great things and in small to seek 
counsel from Him ; and she would see that all her difficulties, on all 
occasions, would vanish, and God would give her wisdom without 

31 



242 MEMOIRS OF 

her knowing how : and this, she said, she had proved by her own 
experience. To the Lady Janet she said, that she had to complain 
of her temper as stubborn and perverse. She charged her to be- 
come more gentle and kind, and in particular to be affectionate and 
attentive to her sister and to seek God with all her heart, and to look 
on all the advice given to her sister, as given to herself. To Master 
George she said, that as he could not understand any advice she could 
give him, she should only pray to God to bless him, and to make him a 
good man ; and, calling for his tutor, she charged^ him to instruct 
him in spiritual as well as temporal things, and earnestly to inculcate 
them on him. Then, looking on them all, she said, " Ye are no more 
mine ; ye are God's." After which, turning towards hermother, who 
was leaning on the back part of the bed, and observing her very sor- 
rowful, and bitterly lamenting her approachingdeath, she said, "Mother 
part willingly with me, for you see I have parted willingly with mine." 

She was very anxious that her heart should have no attachment 
but to God. When some inconsiderate person told her hastily that 
my Lord Seafield would be there in a few hours, she felt considera- 
ble emotion; but, recovering herself, she said, "What! shall the 
creature yet interpose between me and God ? Begone, all ye crea- 
tures. I have vowed it. I have renounced you all, and given up 
myself to God. I have vowed, O Lord, that I will be entirely 
thine. Lord, take thou the full possession of my heart : fill every 
part of it with thy love." Formerly, when her husband had returned 
home after a|long absence, at the first meeting, her spirits would have 
been in such a commotion that she would have fainted away. She 
was afraid lest any such weakness should have seized her now, and 
therefore still lifted up her heart to God, begging that he would per- 
mit no creature to share in it. When her husband came first into the 
room where she lay, she received him in a manner which did not dis- 
cover any emotion, asked him of his welfare, excused herself as to 
conversation because of her deafness, and entreated him to retire to 
his chamber to refresh himself after such a wearisome journey ; and 
when he had retired, she renewed her ejaculations to Heaven, and 
said, " Lord, strengthen my spirit, and preserve my heart from stray- 
ing one hair-breadth from thee to any created thing, from thee, my 
God, my all." She would often say, " the day of my union with 
thee is at hand ; Lord make me ready. If I perish, I will perish at his 
feet. I will hold him fast. Though he should slay me, yet will I love 
him. My tongue shall never cease to praise him while I have a be- 
ing." The second time her lord came to see her, she held out her 
hand to him with a smile, and said, "I am no longer yours; lam 
God's : God bless you, and make you entirely his." 

She was still affected with a deep sense of her having been wanting 
in due compassion and charity towards the poor. She therefore 
begged of her husband that he would be pleased to erect a hospital 
for the maintenance of four poor widows, of good reputation, who 



THE COUNTESS OF SEAFIELD. 243 

had children, where they might be maintained, and live with their 
children, till those were capable of being put to service or a trade ; 
and on the decease of any one of them, another might be put in her 
room. To this he readily consented, which gave her no small satis- 
faction. She blessed God, who had disposed him to consent to it 
so readily. She was in great hopes that her husband, through the 
divine grace, should become truly good, which she earnestly begged 
of God ; and to this end she urged him to be rid of all public affairs 
and attendance on a court, as being the bane of all inclinations to true 
and solid virtue. 

Her heart was now wholly turned to God and to eternity ; and day 
and night, while she waked, for she slept but little, she spent her time 
in ardent ejaculations, or in reading or hearing some portion of the 
holy Scriptures with great devotion. Her son having about this 
time read a letter concerning the love of God, was desirous it might 
be read to her, as being well suited to the present disposition of her 
heart. Having heard it with great attention, she said she had read it 
over two several times before, and wished nothing more than to have 
her heart wholly moulded into the love of God : she had always re- 
garded the love of God as the essence of religion. 

Her fever increasing much at night, on Thursday night she could 
get no sleep, and so fell into a little delirium. After a time, how- 
ever, she fell asleep, and awoke free from any delirium. Express- 
ing the sense she had of her unworthiness and ingratitude to God, a 
lady who was present said, she could see no reason why she should 
have so ill an opinion of herself, as all who knew her were persuad- 
ed that she had led a very good life. To this she replied, that that 
arose from their not knowing her. She could wish that all might 
know her real character, and might learn, from her example, not to 
defer their repentance, but to turn unto God while in health. The 
same lady observing that she had great reason to bless God who had 
given her such a son, she replied, that she did bless God for what he 
was, and prayed that he might be made better, and not to be as those 
who put their hand to the plough and look back again. While she 
was speaking of her approaching end, and that it was now not far off, 
her mother said, she hoped she might still recover. She answered, 
" God forbid that I should flatter myself by thinking either that 1 
shall live long in this world, or that I have a full assurance of a blessed 
eternity ; for I stand I know not how." And turning to her younger 
sister she said, " O Jane, Jane, be wise ; deny yourself, take up your 
cross, and follow Christ." 

That night she caused them to read to her our Savior's farewell 
sermon, and then said, " I shall shortly bid farewell to the vanities 
of the world, and enjoy him whom my soul loveth." When she 
awaked from her slumberings, during which she had been troubled 
with vain dreams, she said she should shortly behold the glory of 
God : and she begged earnestly that she might have no thought but 



244 MEMOIRS OF 

of him, and that he would inspire her with his holy Spirit, that, nei- 
ther sleeping nor waking, she might have any unholy or unprofitable 
thoughts. 

Friday night, the fever still increasing, she fell again into a little 
delirium, sleeping none that night. However, in the morning the 
delirium left her, and she became quite composed. She had before 
been much affected with the parable of the rich man and Lazarus, 
and was sensible that God did not always bestow on those he most 
loved, plenty of the good things of this life, and that she had not 
made that good use of them that she might and ought to have done ; 
and therefore, thinking that the meanest things were too good for her, 
she desired to be buried in the meanest manner that is used in this 
country. 

In the afternoon, her fever still increasing, she was seized again 
with a slight delirium. During its continuance, prayers were made 
for her, of which she seemed insensible. A little time after, one 
prayed over her, blessing God that he had turned her heart wholly 
unto him, and had taken possession of it, and begging earnestly that 
God would rebuke Satan, and cause him to depart from her : her 
spirit was immediately composed, and she broke forth into a most 
devout prayer and ardent adoration of God, at which all who were 
present were greatly surprised. Her husband drawing near to her, 
she held forth her hand to him, and then fell into a little delirium again. 
It was thought that she was calling for the young infant ; but when 
brought she took no notice of him. She was heard to say, " Come, 
shew me the way." One present reminded her that Jesus had said, 
" I am the way, the truth, and the life ;" and added, that He was 
now come to lead her to the Father, and to guide her through this 
dark path. And then-he earnestly prayed, that Almighty God, the 
Creator of the world, would have mercy on the work of his own 
hands; that Jesus Christ, the Redeemer of the world, would save 
the soul that he had bought ; that the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, 
would support and comfort her in this her last agony. When he had 
ended, she broke forth into a divine rapture of adoration and praise 
with her last breath : " My Redeemer liveth : praise to the Lord : 
Amen. Thou hast promised mercy ; thou wilt not leave me : praise 
to the Lord : Amen. Take me by the hand, O my Savior, and lead 
me through the dark path unto the Father. O my God, leave me 
not. I know, O Christ, thou wilt not leave me. Thou never didst 
forsake a soul that was wholly given up to thee : praise to the Lord : 
Amen. Heavenly Father, into thy merciful hands I commend my 
spirit. Thou knowest that I have forsaken the world, and given my 
heart wholly unto thee. Come, and take possession of it. All I had 
in the world, they are thine : I give them unto thee ; do thou accept 
of them. I trust only in thy mercy, and in the merits of my blessed 
Redeemer : praise to the Lord : Amen. Come, Lord Jesus, and 
ead me to the Father. Heavenly Father, into thy merciful arms I 



TH3 COUNTESS OF SEAF1ELD. 245 

commend my spirit. Amen." With these words she closed her 
eyes, and seemed to all present to be yielding up her last breath ; 
and thus she continued for some time, her pulse being quite gone. 
But in a little time she opened her eyes again, and with an air, as it 
seemed, of joy and wonder, she continued looking upwards with a 
fixed gaze for near half an hour. By degrees she let her eyes fall, 
shut them, and yielded up her last breath. Those who were present 
were not a little affected both with her last words and her last looks, 
which they all beheld with silent admiration ; and they were led to 
think that God had been pleased to grant her the desire of her heart, 
some special mark of his favor, in her passing out of this world, and 
that she was entered into the joy of her Lord. 

From the funeral sermon which was preached on the occasion of 
this lady's death, I shall extract a few concluding observations. 

" Adored be the infinite mercy and goodness of God for this fresh 
instance of a sinner who hath caused joy in heaven by true penitence. 
She was a great ornament to her family, sex, and country ; a virtuous 
woman, whose price was far above rubies ; — the heart of whose 
husband might trust in her ; — who looked well to the ways of her 
household, and ate not the bread of idleness; — whose children 
rise up and call her blessed ; her husband also, and he praiseth 
her ; — who was not vain of her favor, which is deceitful, and beau- 
ty, which is vain ; but truly feared the Lord, and therefore ought 
to be praised ; — but who, especially in her latter years, and in the 
last days of her life, gave such evidences of a truly penitent spir- 
it. She then felt the difference between that virtue which has a 
vain shew in the world, and yet is founded too much on self-love and 
self-seeking ; and that which is founded on a deep and true humility, 
divine love, and self-contempt ; — between a heart divided between 
God and the world, and a heart wholly devoted unto God. How 
much did she abhor herself! How profoundly penitent was she for 
her sins ! How was her heart totally weaned from this world, and 
wholly resigned unto God ! How ardent were the breathings of her 
soul to him ! How humble was her hope in his infinite mercy ! How 
often did she say, ' I will cast myself at his feet : if I perish, I will 
perish there !' And what an earnest had we of her blessed acceptance 
with her heavenly Father and Redeemer, in her last joyful and rap- 
turous breathing out of her spirit into the hands of her heavenly Father! 
O may we be stirred up to follow such a blessed example of true peni- 
tence ! May the children trace this path of their excellent mother ! 
May they ever remember and practice her last dying counsel ! May 
her widowed husband give joy to her spirit, by being united to her in 
this spirit of true penitence ! And may we all forsake our evil ways 
and unrighteous thoughts, and turn unto the Lord, and he will have 
mercy upon us, even to our God, for he will abundantly pardon ! 
Amen." 



246 



ELIZABETH WEST. 



Though this woman, who was born in Edinburgh towards the 
close of the seventeenth century, moved in the humble sphere of a 
servant, she was rich with respect to vital religion, a star of the first 
magnitude. We shall give some extracts from her diary, which dis- 
cover lively, fervent godliness. The style is plain and homely, but 
the matter substantial and sweet. 

" Though I cannot tell the time and place, when and where the 
Lord did me first good ; yet this I know, that he began with me very 
early, when I was young in years, to incline my heart to seek the 
Lord. I wanted not good education from my mother, and likewise 
from my aunt, who was a pious woman and took much pains on me. 
When I was conversing with my comrades, I would be telling them 
what my mother was saying to me, that if I were good, I would 
get to heaven. Now, thought I, heaven was such a place, where I 
should get fine clothes, and every thing that was excellent. 

" This so allured me, that I could have been content to do any 
thing to get to heaven : I resolved I would neither swear nor lie, nor 
do any thing that was ill; but I would pray and seek the Lord, then 
I would be sure to get to heaven ; yet I found a strong inclination in 
my heart to break all my resolutions : for, the first temptation that 
came in my way to sin, I embraced it cheerfully. I was extraordi- 
narily given to play of all sorts, which took my heart wholly up, so 
that I thought it a melancholy thing to be religious ; but when I had 
gone to my bed I would think, what if I go to hell, where I shall 
never come out ? That word never wrought strongly on me : but the 
remedy I took to still my conscience was, I would say my prayers 1 
learned at the school ; then I was well enough. I cannot distinctly 
give an account how 1 spent my time : for some years I satisfied my- 
self with the Pharisee's religion, that 1 was not so bad as others ; 
but, in the Lord's own time, when he was pleased to send the gospel 
among us at the Revolution, then I began more seriously to seek the 
Lord ; I left off my form of prayer, and betook me to another way, 
which I thought would please God better. I was for a considerable 
time under the ministry of Mr. William Erskine : all that I can ob- 
serve, during the time he preached among us, was, that I attained to 
a great delight in hearing the word, which wrought upon my affec- 
tions, that I durst not neglect secret prayer ; where sometimes I 
would be very tender, and shed some tears, then I thought there 
was no doubt but I was converted. It pleased the Lord soon to re- 
move Mr. William Erskine. 



MEMOIRS, &£C. 247 

" Then I frequently heard Mr. James Kirkton with a great deal of 
delight ; for his sermons were very taking, and I had a good memo- 
ry ; so gained applause with those among whom I conversed. This 
pleased me extremely, though I knew never what it was to make ap- 
plication of any thing I heard. O how great reason have 1 to ad- 
mire the goodness of the Lord, that did not send me to the pit in 
this selfish condition ! seeking justification by works, never remem- 
bering what 1 was by nature. Jn this case I remained until it plea- 
sed the Lord to send Mr. George Meldrum to be our minister, in 
place of Mr. William Erskine, who was the Lord's messenger to me 
indeed : the first time I heard him, I thought I felt something I never 
felt before, but knew not what it was : that word was made out 
to me, Hos. xi. 1,2, 3. He preached on these words, Joshua, 
xxiv. 15. ' Choose you this day whom ye will serve.' — Where he 
besought us earnestly, with tears, that we should choose presently, 
whom we should serve. He said, ' Many will say, I will do that after- 
wards; but few will say, I will choose presently.' He protested he 
would not go out of the pulpit till we would give our consent presently to 
the bargain without delay. If I rightly remember, this was the first 
time that ever I could observe the Lord speaking to me in public. 
At this time I thought the Lord made me willing in a day of his pow- 
er to choose and consent to serve the Lord. O that I may never for- 
get this day ! 

" After this, I found corruption begin to stir in me ; but, whatever 
troubled me, I got it spoken to on the Sabbath day, which struck 
me with wonder. I several times resorted to Mr. Meldrum and told 
him my case, (though very confusedly) : his converse to me was both 
meek and comfortable ; but, particularly, he exhorted me to keep a 
record of all the Lord's dealings with my soul, if I could write. I 
thought this a strange command ; but I heard the same exhortation 
from Mr. John Flint, at Lasswade, on these words, Isa. xliv. 5, 
' One shall say, I am the Lord's : and another shall call himself by 
the name of Jacob ; and another shall subscribe with his hand unto 
the Lord.' This being on a communion Sabbath, he exhorted every 
one to write with their hands to be the Lord's. I would fain have 
put this exhortation in practice, but knew not how to begin ; it being 
presently before the Sacrament in Edinburgh, which was the first af- 
ter the Revolution, and the first ever I was partaker of. 
. "December 25, 1694. — As all the Lord's ways with me have 
been as so many wonders, so I think it my duty to record one dispen- 
sation of Providence which I met with this night ; and in so doing, 
O that I were as a beacon set up, that others may be aware of these 
rocks on which I had almost split, if God had not prevented it; This 
night I was sitting alone, thinking on a sermon which I had heard, 
and of three remarkable observations, from Matt. viii. 31, 32. 

" The first was : The devil will take little before he wants all ; he 
lost the man, he is content with the swine. The second is : They 



248 MEMOIRS OF 

run fast that the devil drives. The third : The devil brings all his 
hogs to an ill market, they ran violently, and perished in the waters. 
In the mean time, when I was thinking on these observations, I for- 
got one of them ; I desired that God would bring it to my memory 
again, which was not granted to me presently. Immediately I was 
tempted to atheism, and that strongly ; the temptation was this, there 
is no God : it is a vain thing to believe in Christ. And this was 
pressed on me by arguments of such a nature, that it is not conven- 
ient to record. This temptation struck in me a strange consternation 
what to do. If there be no God, from whence proceedeth my being? 
In this desperate case I went to prayer, crying, What shall I do, 
what shall I do, O Maker of heaven and earth ? I am in a great strait 
about thy being : once I thought that thou wast the God of my sal- 
vation ; but now it seems that all has been in vain. But while I was 
on my knees, musing like one out of their senses, drowned in the 
deeps of unbelief; then did the Lord step to my help, and had pity 
on me when he saw me sinking. Yea, he took not advantage of my 
weakness to destroy me ; but he let his power appear in holding me 
up. He brought the observation to my memory which I forgot ; and 
then he convinced me of my sins, which filled me with wonder and 
admiration. What! might not the Lord have thrown me into hell 
for entertaining such hellish thoughts ? Then I betook myself to God 
by prayer, that for Christ's sake he would pardon my sin of enter- 
taining such a sinful temptation. O but the Lord was condescending 
to me ; for he surprised me with his presence ; I got a new confirma- 
tion of my interest in Christ, and was made to plead the promise that 
he was my God, and my King, and my Redeemer. I dare say it, as 
in his sight, I never experienced a sweeter time than this was. It 
well becomes me to record it, both for my own comfort and the 
good of others. O that I could praise the Lord in my conversation, 
and that from this time I might be set apart to serve the Lord for 
ever and ever ! This was the strongest assault that ever I met with ; 
but glory, glory to God the Father (the offended,) to God the Son 
(who was in the offender's stead,) to God the Holy Ghost who 
strengthened me with strength, so that Satan got not his will of me 
this night, though it was the beginning of sorrow to me indeed, for 
this battle of atheism began this night, yet I seemed to get some 
victory over it ; but I found the remainders to lie still in my bosom 
ready upon every temptation to break forth. After this I fell into an 
extraordinary deadness of spirit ; I was sensibly deserted ; I wist not 
what to do ; I could tell my case to none, it was so extraordinary : 
I had some Christian comrades with whom I frequently conversed to 
my great satisfaction ; but I could find none of them in my case, 
which made me bemoan the more. 

"January 1, 1695. — I was with them in the morning, when they 
were conversing about the love of Christ : this wrought a strong de- 
sire in me again to know more of this Jesus. Alas ! I was perfect- 



ELIZABETH WEST. 249 

\y ignorant ; I came home, but O I would fain have been at Christ's 
school to learn the first lesson of religion ; for I thought I was noth- 
ing but a hypocrite, and that all the promises I had got were but 
upon condition that I should walk up according to my receipt of mer- 
cies ; and, as far as I came short, the promises were not to be made 
out to me ; then that word came in mind, where Moses was reprov- 
ing the chiding of the children of Israel, he tells them from the Lord, 
' That because they had not walked in the ways of the Lord, there- 
fore they should know his breach of promise.' Then I thought this 
message was expressly to me, which increased my trouble ; think- 
ing now, God is at enmity with me, none of the promises belong to 
me. In this case I remained till the 12th day, being Saturday ; at 
night I went to prayer, but very sadly lamenting my condition, and 
crying, O for another offer of a reconciled God in Christ, I would 
give all the world ! Upon the morrow, being the Sabbath, our min- 
ister, Mr. George Meldrum, took that text, Col. i. 21. ' And you 
who were sometime enemies in your minds by wicked works, yet 
now hath he reconciled.' Where indeed I had a Christ freely offered 
to me ; and he told us, that God had sent him with this message, we 
then as ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by 
us, we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God. I must 
confess, this minister was many times God's messenger to me, but 
especially this day : it was my duty to love and pray for him, that 
his Master's message may prosper in all places where he shall be 
sent. He delighted in nothing but in preaching Christ, and him cru- 
cified. If my heart deceived me not, I thought I got favor with God 
this night, and that very comfortably ; but, alas ! it was but a blink 
before a shower. Then the tempter came on me again, to make me 
misbelieve, and that I was mistaken about favor with God, for all that 
I had met with was but mere delusion ; for I was still ignorant ; and 
that which grieved me was my sin that I lived under such a clear 
gospel-ministry. O ! my ignorance of God and Christ stared me in 
the face in such a manner, that it made me cry, I am undone ! I 
have been born to be a monument of his displeasure ! O what shall 
I do ! God has forsaken me ! O that I had never been born ! for I 
get no leave to come to God in prayer as I was wont. Then 1 began 
to debate myself out of Christ by many arguments which are not con- 
venient to name, but especially that I was but an outside Christian, 
for I had nothing but a bare profession ; indeed I had show enough, 
and name enough, and tongue enough ; but the inwards of religion I 
wanted : I was like a body without a soul. I saw myself lost and 
undone ; but, which was worst of all, it did not affect me as it would 
have done another ; some would not have slept a sound sleep, but 
as for me it never had that effect on me. Notwithstanding all this, 
I saw much of God's love to me ; in this especially, that whatever 
troubled me through the week, Mr. Meldrum spoke suitably on the 
Sabbath, which struck me with admiration ; for if I had told my case 

32 



250 MEMOIRS 0¥ 

to him or any other, I should have thought he had got notice of me 
some way, but I revealed my mind to none : so that I saw it was the 
Spirit of God speaking to me by him. O how sweet and refreshing I 
found the Sabbath-days ! 

"Edinburgh, April 14, 1695. — Being the Sabbath-day. — I may 
remember this day with wonder and praise. In the morning, when 
I was at secret prayer, I got near access to the throne of grace, and 
poured out my heart before the Lord with a great deal of sweetness 
and composure of spirit : then that word was brought to my mind, 
Deut. xvi. 1. ' Observe the month of Abib ; for in the month Abib 
the Lord brought you out of the land of Egypt.' This word was very 
suitable to my present circumstance, and I was helped to make ap- 
plication. 

" After this I came to the place of public worship, where that ser- 
vant of Christ, Mr. George Meldrum, preached on Rev. iii. 20. 
' Behold I stand at the door and knock ; if any man will hear my 
voice, and open the door, I will come in and sup with him, and he 
with me.' He observed these four things from the words. 

" First, That, by nature, we were all holding Christ at the door, 
and would not let him in. 2dly, That it was Christ's work to stand 
and knock, though we were obstinate in keeping the door fast. 3dly, 
That many unkind answers we give him, and yet he takes not the 
first refusal. 4thly, That he is yet willing to make a new offer to all 
that will accept of him on his own terms. My memory cannot serve 
me to set down every word he spoke distinctly ; but this I am sure, 
I thought he told me every thing that I did or thought ; how I had 
kept Christ at the door with my unholy carriage and deportment. I 
thought nothing, but that I should burst within myself the time 1 was 
hearing, it touched my case so near. This was a day of power to 
me indeed, as ever I felt. 

" It pleased the Lord to give me another occasion of renewing my 
former engagements, which were dreadfully broken on my part. I 
saw that I could not walk with the Lord ; therefore I must not let 
any opportunity pass of giving myself to the Lord. I also was at the 
time laboring under the power of a body of sin and death, and saw no 
remedy but in Christ. 

" There was word of a communion at Prestonpans ; at the hear- 
ing of which there arose a vehement desire in my heart to be there, 
having experienced the manifestations of his presence formerly. I 
was persuaded I had the Lord's call to go there, from these two 
scriptures ; ' Seek and ye shall find, knock and it shall be opened 
unto you.' The other was, ' Follow the Lamb whithersoever he go- 
eth.' I met with some oppositions, which had a tendency to hinder 
me to go there ; but the Lord overcame them all. I cannot but re- 
mark two of these hindrances : in the first place, I had a tooth-ache, 
which distressed me mightily. There was none that thought I would 
be so cruel to myself as to adventure on such a journey to-morrow, 



ELIZABETH WEST. 251 

and yet I was firmly resolved I would be there. The other hinder- 
ance was, that the weather was extraordinarily boisterous, with great 
rains, terrible winds, and thunder ; so that I thought the house would 
have been blown down about me that night. 

11 On the morrow, when I awaked, the pain of my tooth was quite 
gone from me, which I reckoned no small mercy ; but still the wind 
continued loud and bitter, which made all the family plead with me 
to forbear my going there, but I gave a deaf ear to them all, and 
away I came to Prestonpans. When I met with the poor women, 
with their burdens of coals and salt on their backs, coming to the 
market at Edinburgh, then I thought the badness of the weather does 
not hinder these from their earthly market : O what a fool would I 
have been, if any thing should have hindered me from the heavenly 
market! 

" When I came to the place, O how sweet and refreshing were 
these Saturday's sermons to me! Mr. John Moncrief was on Exod. 
xx. 24. 'In all places where I record my name, I will come unto 
thee, and bless thee.' He observed, that ordinances were the trys- 
ting-places between Christ and his people : and whoever there was 
that had been trysting Christ to come to this communion, if they were 
come to keep the tryst on their part, he was also come to keep it on 
his part. 

"When the minister came to serve the first table he said, 'What 
is thy request, queen Esther, and it shall be granted thee?' O then, 
my heart cried out, my request is, that the Savior's image may be 
stamped on my heart presently. Come, Lord, here is a temple for 
thee to dwell in, such as it is ; but do thou to it as thou did to the tem- 
ple, whip out all buyers and sellers, and every thing that defileth it. 
I have great idols unmodified ; corruptions, which, Haman-like, 
strive to overcome me. O make me more holy than ever I was be- 
fore, that the image of my Lord may appear in my converse with 
others in the world ! 

" Let me have as near a conformity to thee as ever any attained 
to. I this day request for more light in reading thy holy word ; for 
as yet it is the darkest book I ever read upon. I also request for my 
poor parents, as formerly, and all my Christian acquaintances, min- 
isters and people, and for our land in general : and that the gospel 
may never depart from Scotland. Come purge thy house of every 
thing that hinders thy appearance among the golden candlesticks. 
O Lord grant me greater degress of humility, both outward and in- 
ward ; for I find my self-conceit sometimes like to overcome me. I 
here this day promise, as in thy sight, to stand to thy interest, though 
persecution should arise ; and to lay down my life, if thou call for it. 
Come, Lord, tie both me and my resolutions to thyself fast, and I 
slide not back in trying times, and be not like that son, that said, ' He 
would go to work in the vineyards, but went not.' I must confess to 
the glory of God, I got great liberty in seeking all these things, both 
in public and secret. 



252 MEMOIRS OF 

" O but it was a comfortable day to me, wherein my interest in 
Christ was as visible to me, as if it had been written in golden letters 
before my eyes ! It is impossible for the tongues of men or angels to 
declare the joy and comfort I experienced, and wherein I gave my- 
self to the Lord ; and in testimony hereof I take myself to witness, 
and all in heaven and earth, that I am not my own, but the Lord's." 
Written and subscribed at Prestonpans, October 9, 1697. 

" The next sacramental occasion I heard of was at Largo in Fife. 
I met with oppositions from without to hinder me to go ; but they 
were no more to me than the blowing of a feather in the air ; for to 
Largo I must go. Another and I took our journey on Friday morn- 
ing, and the way was very pleasant, for the Lord helped us to suit- 
able converse, inquiring at one another, what our errand was at 
Largo ? 

" On Saturday morning when we came to the place, Mr. John 
Moncrief was on these words, Zech. ix. 9. " Behold thy King Com- 
eth unto thee.' 

" Then Mr. George Hamilton spoke on these words, Col. ii. 6. 
c As ye have received the Lord Jesus Christ so walk ye in him.' As 
the one was telling us ' the King was coming ;' so the other exhorted 
us i to receive him :' the Spirit of the Lord bearing witness with them 
both, that they were sent expressly from their Master, Christ. 

" On Sabbath morning the tempter was not idle with me, to dis- 
courage and disquiet my spirit, and began to suggest, whether it was 
my duty to communicrtte or not ? I answered, I was persuaded it was 
my duty, for I got a sharp reproof last communion 1 was at, and did 
not partake. But did the devil leave me so ? No, no ; he took 
another way with me ; for it was against his will I should communicate 
that day ; he wakened up all the devils and corruptions of my heart ; 
and when I saw them, I presently concluded I would not communi- 
cate that day : and as for my unbelief, it mastered me to such a de- 
gree, that 1 could believe nothing, I was so struck with stupidity. 
Mr. William Moncrief, who was the minister of that parish, (it being 
the first communion that was given there,) being on Matt. xxii. 
' Come to the marriage ; for all things are ready ;' in the time he was 
delivering these great truths (and wonderful and large were the offers 
he made of King Christ that day) there arose the greatest frame 
upon the spirits of the people that ever my ears heard or eyes saw : 
notwithstanding of all this I remained a stupid, hard hearted creature, 
and still the temptation ran with me, it is not true the minister is say- 
ing ; and many such suggestions were whispered in my ears by the 
tempter. 

" When he came to fence the table, I thought he cut me off; for 
there was not one sin he mentioned but that I was guilty of it ; yet 
there was a secret word borne in on me, ' This is the voice of my be- 
loved.' But how shall I testify what a change was wrought in a mo- 
ment ? And O that my recording this were for the glory of God, and 



ELIZABETH WEST. 253 

the edification of those that hear of it ! how the Lord suddenly sur- 
prised me, when I was not thinking on it, so that 1 was never so sen- 
sible of an immediate call from the Spirit of God, as at this time. 

" When the minister had declared faithfully who were not worthy 
to come to his Master's table, then he came to open his commission, 
whom his Master had warranted him to call in ; in which number ] 
was, for I heard my name and surname there, and was persuaded of 
it, the Spirit of the Lord bearing witness with my spirit to the call, 
so as it could not be resisted. And that word came with force and 
power, ' Now this is the voice of my beloved ; Arise, my love, my 
fair one, and come away.' With that there arose such a vehement 
desire in my heart to be at Christ, that I had no patience, but to the 
first table I went, where immediately that word came, ' I in you, and 
you in me, as the branches are in the tree.' What a frame of spirit J 
was in is better felt than told; where my vehement desire was, that 
the Lord might imprint his image on my heart, and that the Holy 
Spirit might take up an everlasting abode with me, and that I might 
have sympathy with the church in all her distresses. 

" I cannot but set down some of the words Mr. John Moncrief had 
at the table he served : he said, ' Communicants, what hath made all 
this weeping among you to-day ? O say some, we are weeping with 
Mary, because of an absent Christ. Is this the cause of thy weep- 
ing, poor soul ? I shall tell thee, may be ye shall meet with Mary's 
comfort : Jesus may be nearer thee than thou knowest of; when she 
thought her Lord was gone, he says, Mary ; and presently she was 
comforted : Rabboni ! Is this my Lord ? O, but says another, I am 
weeping with Peter, because I have denied him. Well, let me say 
this to you, may be it shall fare with thee as it did with Peter : Christ 
says to Mary, go tell my disciples, and Peter that I am risen. Poor 
mourning Peter, he must be comforted. But says another, I am 
weeping with Christ himself at Lazarus's grave for love ; the love of 
Christ makes me weep. If it be so, may not I then say of you, as 
the Jews said of Christ, Behold how the folks of Largo love Christ 
to-day !' 

" Edinhvrgh, September 11, 1698. — O Lord, this day being set 
apart for humiliation and supplication, I desire to join with the rest, 
to humble myself under the sense of my own provocations, that I 
have had a hand in provoking thee to lay the land desolate. There- 
fore, great Lord, though thou make me to perish in the common ca- 
lamity, 1 must acknowledge thou art right, for I have sinned. Also 
I desire to be humbled under the sense of the family sins in which 1 
live ; and that because thou art not worshipped in it by my parents 
as thou oughtest to be : therefore, although thou arise in particular 
against us with visible judgments, ' thou art righteous, O Lord.' Al- 
so I desire to be humbled under the land's sins ; for from the 
highest to the lowest, all flesh hath sinned, and made public defec- 
tion from thy ways ; and especially in breach of solemn covenam. 



254 MEMOIRS OF 

which was the glory of our land, and in shedding the blood of the 
saints ; for which we have all reason to mourn : by this thou hast 
been provoked, and that justly, to send dreadful plagues among us. 
I desire to be humbled for the sins of the real godly amongst us ; and 
that because they are not adorners of religion, neither are we bring- 
ing forth fruit suitable to the pains taken on us; but thy way is evil 
spoken of by the wicked, when they see among the people of God so 
much pride, passion, and worldly-mindedness, selfishness, division, 
and many other evils; therefore, O Lord, just art thou, though thou 
shouldest proclaim over us, what thou proclaimedst over the barren 
vineyard, Isa. v. Now, O Lord, justly art thou contending with 
all of us : yet let me supplicate thy throne this day, in the name, and 
for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ, with whom I entered into cov- 
enant last Lord's day, at Prestonpans, that the judgments thou art 
threatening by thy servants, and by thy providential dispensations, 
may be done away : nevertheless, if it seem thee good to bring them 
on us, O Lord, fit and make us ready for them ; give us strength to 
bear the burden, that we do not apostatize and fall away when the tri- 
al comes. I supplicate this day, that if thou send thy sore judgments 
among us, that they may be mixed with mercy; if thou send famine 
among us, and break the staff of bread, then, Lord, give thy Holy 
Spirit unto us, that we may learn to feed by faith on the bread of 
life. Or, if thou send the sword among us, with a cruel enemy to 
avenge thy quarrel ; then, Lord, grant that we may stand stedfast 
and faithful to thy cause and interest, that we may not turn aside 
for their threatenings. I here this day give myself to thee : my life, 
my name, my natural enjoyments, if thou shalt call for them : only 
make my call clear, that I be not confused when the trial comes. 
And then, if thou give strength, I am content, though thou call me to 
a gibbet, or a stake to be burnt, or any other way thou seest meet to 
try me with : here I am, do with me what thou pleasest. I have 
sinned, be thou glorified, and let me enjoy thee for ever, is all my 
desire. Or if thou shalt send that sore judgment of pestilence 
among us, then be thou our Physician to heal all our diseases, espe- 
cially spiritual ones : only, Lord, whatever be the rod thou art go- 
ing to lay upon us, come with it thyself, and then welcome, welcome 
is the cross, in whatever sort it be. Now, O Lord, give me the vic- 
tory over myself, this weary body of sin and death, which holds me 
daily in spiritual bondage; there is no enemy or judgment I am so 
afraid of, as this woful natural disposition of mine to all things con- 
trary to thy holy law. O let my sinful, selfish nature, from this day, 
be like the house of Saul, growing weaker and weaker ; and let the 
new nature, which belongs to thee, be like the house of David, 
stronger and stronger ; so that I may be strengthened to carry the 
cross cheerfully, rejoicing and unweariedly, when thou callest me to 
it. Let not my resolutions be like that man's, who came to Christ 
and would do any thing to be saved ; and yet, when the cross was 



ELIZABETH WEST. 255 

spoken of, he went away sorrowful ; but I lay my resolutions in thy 
hand, to keep them for me against the time of need, acknowledging 
my own weakness, for I have neither strength nor will to do any thing ; 
but I have chosen thee for my all, and in all, from this time forth, 
and for ever ; so let it be. Amen. 

" O Lord, thou knowest my requests this day, and at other times, 
put up for my father, that thou wouldest work a second conversion on 
his spirit, that may send him to Jesus ; for I am afraid that to this day 
he is sleeping in a very dangerous condition ; but yet I believe, that 
thou hast put words in my mouth for him, so I hope against hope. 
As also for my mother, that if thou hast begun the good work in her f 
let it appear in her conversation, in changing her affection from things 
below, and setting them on things above. As also for my brother, 
that a work of grace may thrive in him : Lord, let him see the folly 
of spending so much time in seeking this world's trash, and set him 
more in seeking the kingdom of heaven. I commit them all to thee, 
do with them as seems thee good ; only be thou glorified. As also, 
for thy glory's sake, remember this sinful church and nation ; and 
when thou comest with thy sore judgments, let them be for purging 
and purifying both ministers and people, that they may come out of 
the furnace all glorious, that other nations may see thou lovest to 
dwell in thy covenanted Scotland. Now, Lord, for Christ's sake, 
when thou in wrath visit this land, and although I should fall into the 
common calamity, yet let my soul be united to thee in peace ; keep 
my faith, and do not suffer me to flinch from the least article of thy 
truths, but speak thou for me, when I shall be called to own thee 
publicly before the enemy. O let not my self-ends get more room 
there than thy glory ! I must end this day with a song of praise, that 
the Lord hath been pleased to countenance and accept of an offering 
of mine hand ; and that he would put me in a disposition for such a 
solemn day, to pour out my requests in the bitterness of my soul. 
Let this day be remembered by me, that I may sing glory and praise ; 
and that, to eternity, my song may be, to Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost, one God, to him be endless praise and glory, for now and 
evermore. Amen. 

11 About this time the condition of my father lay very near my 
heart, and that because I could see nothing like a change on him to 
the better, but particularly on the 7th of January, 1706, it being 
Sabbath, I was strangely weighted with it, and was made to plead 
the out-making of the promise on his account, that he would shew 
wonders to the dead, I having the impression of his death on me, 
though at that time he was well in health. I often made use of that 
word in prayer, Psal. cxix. ' It is time to work, Lord, it is time for 
thee to work.' He is growing old, and wearing near his grave ; O 
Lord, let free grace be glorified in his salvation, according to thy 
promises. 



25 G MEMOIRS OF 

" On Thursday next, of a sudden he had a purging of blood ; 
and in the afternoon he vomited excessively, so that none thought he 
could put off this night ; I knowing nothing of it, for I was not at this 
time in my father's house. 

" On Friday morning they sent and told me my father was not 
well. No sooner I heard this, but I concluded it was his death ! 
which immediately put me in a praying posture for him, ' that now 
free grace might be exalted in his salvation, according to the 
promise.' 

" The first time I saw him, I told him with tears, that it was death 
approaching, and besought him to lay it to heart. He made me little 
or no answer, but grievous were the looks he gave me, which sent me 
to the throne of grace, inquiring of the Lord what could be the mat- 
ter I was sent so many errands for him, both at communions and oth- 
er solemn occasions, and so loaded with him for ordinary in prayer, 
where I would have got liberty for him, when I could have sought no 
other thing, since now they were all like to come to nought ; he on a 
death-bed, and no appearance of a work of grace begun yet. This 
tossed me up and down in a terrible manner as ever any was. It 
was not the loss of him as my parent, that so troubled me ; no, no ; 
in this respect I could have parted with him freely ; but the thing that 
troubled me was, fearing he would be a cast-away. The thoughts 
of this made me utter these words before the Lord in prayer, O 
Lord, in the days of thy flesh, some came to thee for their servant, 
some for their son, some for their daughter, some for themselves, 
and they got all good answers. Now I come for my father ; O de- 
ny me not for thy own name's sake ! 

"About nine o'clock he grew very weak, and his speech failed 
him ; then I cried to the Lord to hear my last request for him : I 
continued pleading with a troubled and vexed spirit, until it pleased 
the Lord, in his great Condescendence, to bear that word in my 
mind, Mai. iii. 16. 'He shall be mine in that day that I make up 
my jewels ; and I will spare him as a man doth his son that serveth 
him.' This brought with it a sweet calm and composure of spirit to 
me, so that I came patiently, and saw him depart this life, about 
eleven of the clock at night, being the 13th of January, 1700. 

" About this time there happened a very lamentable providence in 
the city : the 3d of February, about ten at night, a fire broke out in 
the Meal-market, the like of which, I believe, was not seen in many 
generations : it burnt so vehemently, that it was thought the most 
part of the city would have been consumed ; the flames were so ter- 
rible, that none durst come near to quench it ; it was also a very 
great wind, which blew to such a degree, that, with the sparks that 
came from the fire, there was nothing to be seen through the whole 
city, but as it had been showers of tire like showers of snow, they 
were so thick ; it was to me an emblem of hell, and oftentimes Sod- 
om came in my mind that night. O but it was a sad and lamentable 



ELIZABETH WEST. 257 

sight to look upon, to see the most populous place in the city, the 
Parliament-square, in a red flame, the flames flying in the elements, 
and no hands endeavoring to put them out. I cannot but remark, 
that this night these words were fulfilled, which I heard pronounced 
against the city by Mr. John Moncrief, in the College-kirk, Sabbath 
after the fire in the Canongate-head ; the words were these, Micah 
vi. 9. ' God's voice crieth to the city, and the man of wisdom shall 
see thy name ; hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it.' 

"I left my place, and went to Jerviswood's family in Edinburgh ; 
but Providence so ordered it, that I was sent to the country house, 
which was at Melistoun in the south : this was unexpected, but yet I 
willingly complied with it. As we were in the way going there, about 
the middle of the day I retired a little to the fields secretly, in which 
place the Lord gave me a sweet promise that he would be with me, 
and revive me as the corn, and as the dew upon Israel ; that I should 
grow as the lily, and send forth branches as Lebanon : this encouraged 
me in my journey there, where I was kindly received and entertained. 

" Now, as for the Lord's way with me in that place, I cannot but 
remark, some few days after I came there, the Sacrament was given 
at Stichel : to which place I went, and on Saturday I met with very 
much sweetness in the sermons, for it was soul comforting news I 
heard there. The first text was on these words, in Isaiah, ' I will 
pour water on the dry ground, and floods on the thirsty ;' where the 
very desire of my soul was spoken to, and I was made to apply it. 
The other text was, ' to this man will I look, who is of a broken and 
a contrite heart.' This was also a blessed sermon to me, where I 
thought the Lord was giving me an invitation to come to his blessed 
table to morrow : and accordingly I went ; and blessed be God, he 
was not altogether a hiding God : but I got not what I would have 
been at. We were very much exhorted to watchfulness, and to be 
on our guard, which was very sweet to me in hearing ; but, I may 
say it", to my great shame, I had not so much delight in putting it in 
practice ; for I soon let my heart wander on trifles of no value ; so 
that I soon lost my good motions by my own neglect. But, what 
shall I say ? My winter season was lengthened out in a great meas- 
ure ; sometimes a fair day and a warm blink ; then presently a storm 
on the back of it from Satan, my own corruptions, and a wicked 
world ; sometimes light breaks in so as I could read the love of God 
in Christ Jesus to my poor soul, and that there shall be an accomplish- 
ment of these long delayed promises to my comfort; but then, ere 
ever I was aware, darkness came and overshadowed all? so that I 
was a prey to unbelief and discouragement. Through this summer 
season I had several occasions of communions in that place, for 
which I bless the Lord ; and also for our ordinary Sabbath day's ser- 
mons, which were very refreshing to me. 

" There is another thing I cannot forbear to remark, concerning 
my outward affairs in this family : I must acknowledge everyone was 

33 



258 MEMOIRS OF 

more civil to me and kind than another, except a French woman who 
was in the family ; she was one that was visibly void of religion, as 
also her outward behavior was most unsavory and unbecoming ; not- 
withstanding of this, I put the best construction upon her I could, 
because she was a stranger. This person seemed to have a very 
great esteem of me ; and many times she would bless the Lord that 
ever she was in company with me : yet I never noticed any thing she 
said, knowing her to be a very great liar. But there was one day, 
being Sabbath morning, she coming down stairs, singing to a little 
dog in her arms, at this I could not wink, but reproved her for so 
doing : at which she seemed to be displeased, and wist not what way 
to be revenged on me ; but, to make amends for a fault, when we 
went to church, she was wholly employed in mocking the minister, 
and shooting out her finger in time of sermon, so that a great many 
in the kirk took notice of her, were mightily offended, and told me, 
they wondered that such a person should be allowed to dwell in a 
family where better things were expected. I considering that the 
heads of the family were from home, I took it upon me to reprove 
her sharply : on the back of this she turned the most outrageous, 
mischievous spirit against me, that she contrived the most horrid lies 
which could be invented : but the Lord of his goodness turned her 
malice to her own shame, and nowise to my hurt, but rather to the con- 
trary : yet this trial was somewhat weighty to me, considering this 
woman's reproachful tongue ; but I was helped, first by the Lord, 
and then by all those among whom I dwelt, who, though they were 
strangers to me, yet their sympathy was beyond expression. 

"I left this family in November, and returned back to the family 
out of which I came at last at the Inch ; where I was received with 
very much kindness by all in it, and particularly by those who were 
my enemies before ; in which I saw much of the wisdom and wise 
conduct of the Almighty, who does all things well : and this my 
soul knows to its experience : there being many things in my charge 
in this family, that now were made more easy in many respects. 

the depths of his wisdom ! I saw in this providence, beyond what 

1 can express : yet, even at this time, I wanted not a strong body of 
sin and death weighing me down, and making me cry out many 
times with bitterness of spirit, ' O that I had wings like a dove ! then 
would I fly away, and be at rest,' from a tempting devil, a corrupt 
heart, a wicked world, and the sin that does so easily beset me. 

" These things I would not so particularly record, but it is to let 
us see the care and concern the Lord hath about his poor people 
when in trouble, even with respect to their external concerns : he 
hath a fatherly and tender heart, he pities and helps in the most 
convenient seasons. I must acknowledge, that this dispensation 
of Providence to me, the vilest and unworthiest of all his creatures, 
was so remarkable, and exactly the return of prayer in all the cir- 
cumstances of it ; that I am more and more every day made to won- 



ELIZABETH WEST. 259 

der at his wise conduct of Providence, not only toward my soul, for 
which he hath done great things, but also with respect to my lot in 
the world. But I may say with the Psalmist, ' He is the God. that 
performeth all things (well) for me, spiritual and temporal.' I get 
nothing but what he makes me first cry to him for by prayer, and 
then in his own time and way he answers and performs what he hath 
made me believe. O happy are they that have so good a God to 
trust in !" 



260 



THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE 

LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 



The Lady Elizabeth Hastings was born April 19, 1682. Her 
father was Theophilus, Earl of Huntingdon, and her mother was 
the daughter of Sir John Lewis, of Ledstone, in the county of York, 
Bath, one moiety, and more, of whose very large estate came to hev 
by inheritance. 

There was a fine dawn of her future excellences in her tender 
age. A countenance that united in it something great, and something 
condescending; an ingenuous temper; a quickness of understan- 
ding ; a benevolent spirit ; a flexibility of nature ; a devout frame 
and a solemn sense of divine things ; were observable in her first de- 
parture out of her infancy, and her footsteps slipt not in the danger- 
ous ascent of life, so that she was not only free from every stain of 
vice in her early days, but superior to the world, and its vain and tri- 
fling amusements. 

Before she launched into life, she was fond of privacy and retire- 
ment, and was much in devotional exercises in her closet. In some 
contests between the Earl, her father, and Lord Hastings, her broth- 
er, she observed such a prudence in her conduct, that she preserved 
the kindness and affection of both, and after the death of the former, 
and till the decease of the latter, she would be doing good things 
with her substance, when her abilities were not so great. 

Her ladyship's active life most conspicuously commenced soon 
after the death of her brother by the whole blood, the Right Honorable 
George, Earl of Huntingdon, already mentioned under the title of 
Lord Hastings, when her excellent virtues shone out by what has 
been the eclipse of virtue in others, the accession of a large fortune. 

Then it was that she became known, and was observed to be some- 
thing more than a lady of great beauty and fine accomplishments, of 
affability, and easy access, of condescension, and good nature, and 
of regular motions in religion. Her aims were set high, and no 
attainments in piety and goodness would content her soul short of 
perfection. 

When she had not many months finished her twenty-seventh year, 
her singular accomplishments and merits were celebrated by Sir 
Richard Steele, the ingenious author of the paper called the Tatler 
under the name of Aspasia. 

" But these ancients," says our writer, " would be as much aston- 
shed to see in the same age so illustrious a pattern to all who love 



MEMOIRS, &C. 261 

things praiseworthy as the divine Aspasia. Methinks I now see her 
walking in her garden like our first parent, with unaffected charms, 
before beauty had spectators, and bearing celestial conscious virtue 
in her aspect. Her countenance is the lively picture of her mind, 
which is the seat of honor, truth, compassion, knowledge, and in- 
nocence. 

" ■ There dwells the scorn of vice, and pity too.' 

" In the midst of the most ample fortune, and veneration of all that 
behold and know her, without the least affectation, she consults re- 
tirement, the contemplation of her own being, and that Supreme 
Power which bestowed it. Without the learning of schools, or 
knowledge of a long course of arguments, she goes on in a steady 
course of uninterrupted piety and virtue, and adds, to the severity 
of the last age all the freedom and ease of this. The language and 
mien of a court she is possessed of in the highest degree, but the sim- 
plicity and humble thoughts of a cottage are her more welcome enter- 
tainments. Aspasia is a female philosopher, who does not only live 
up to the resignation of the most retired lives of the ancient sages, 
but also to the schemes and plans which they thought beautiful, 
though inimitable. This lady is the most exact economist, without 
appearing busy ; the most strictly virtuous, without tasting the praise 
of it ; and shuns applause with as much industry, as others do re- 
proach. This character is so particular, that it will be very easily 
fixed on her only by all that know her ; but, I dare say, she will be 
the last that finds it out.*" 

In order to assist her endeavors to reach the sublimest heights of 
honor and virtue, our lady commenced an acquaintance with persons 
eminent for religion, Doctor John Sharp, Archbishop of York, Rob- 
ert Nelson, Esq., and Doctor Richard Lucas. Many years after the 
decease of all of them she has been heard to felicitate herself upon 
the privilege of her friendship with them, and how much she was es- 
teemed and honored by Mr. Nelson in particular; and we have no 
reason to think but she had a like esteem from the others, is evident 
from a letter of his yet remaining, in which he applies to her the fol- 
lowing text, Prov. xxxi. 29, " Many daughters have done virtuously, 
but thou excellest them all." 

In the place (Ledstone-house,) where her ladyship spent the great- 
er part of her life, almost every eye beheld her with wonder. The 
higher ranks of mankind were by her acquaintance some of them 
charmed into the love of virtue, while others found their virtues 
heightened and improved. As to the lower part, they were guid- 
ed by her wisdom, and, if they wanted it, were cherished by her 
bounty. 



Tutler, Number 42, dated July 16, 1709. 



262 MEMOIRS OF 

Such was the superiority of her understanding, that in matters of 
high moment hundreds would ask counsel of her, who were them- 
selves well qualified to give it to others, for she was blessed with a 
rectitude of judgment, and could readily penetrate through perplexi- 
ties, unravel them, and mark out the wisest and safest conduct, hav- 
ing ever for her ground the interests of truth, fidelity, honor, and re- 
ligion. Her end was the glory of God, and the good of all men, 
keeping all her capacities, all her powers, and all her fortune contin- 
ually upon the stretch for the benefit of her fellow-creatures; weep- 
ing with them that weep, rejoicing with them that rejoice ; given to 
hospitality, distributing to the necessities of the saints, and to others 
that were less so ; having joy at the conversion of a sinner, or any the 
smallest appearances of it. 

Besides the wisdom which is called secular, as having for its 6b- 
jects the affairs of this life, her ladyship's mind was endowed with 
that wisdom which comes from above, and was so influenced by it, 
that whether she wrote or spoke, it was ever in consistency with it. 
Her will was in full subjection to the precepts of the gospel. She 
took her measures from them, and observed a close conformity to 
them. Her will also bowed to the Divine Will in her afflictions. 
Because they were the pleasure of God, they were hers too; and, 
when his arrows stuck fast within her, and his hand pressed her sore, 
she possessed herself in these painful parts of life with great cheer- 
fulness, and preferred them in her whole judgment, and upon the 
most important considerations, to the days of health and ease. As to 
her affections, they were set upon things above, panting and longing 
after the pleasures that are there ; or attaching herself to such em- 
ployments as infallibly lead to them. 

Her ladyship's attendance and apparel were such as became her 
place and station. Her body she knew was the temple of the Holy 
Ghost, and she possessed it in sanctiflcation and honor. Her support 
of it by meat, and drink, and sleep, was ever bounded by necessity. 
The intervals that happened as to the last were improved in pious 
meditation or prudent deliberations what better measures to take in 
the duties of her Christian calling. 

The word of God was a lamp to her feet, and a light unto her 
paths. Her delight was in his law, and she made it her every day's 
study. She held her Bible to her heart to receive its quickening 
virtue, and used it at the same time as she would a mirror to her 
face, to discover every spot and blemish. The other books that she 
used were well chosen, and they were much in her esteem, and oft- 
en in her hands, in order to learn from them to examine herself by 
them, and to see what she had in common with the children of God, 
and if in any thing she fell short of them. She compared spiritual 
things with spiritual, she pondered with her own heart, and searched 
out her spirit, weighing herself as it were in a balance. 



LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 263 

She used her pen much, sometimes for her own service, but more 
for the service of others. Besides what papers went abroad, great 
numbers remained, but were unhappily destroyed by a severe sen- 
tence of her own. By them she would have been more fully and 
better known, and more excellent things might have been spoken of 
her than what could have been gathered by any other information. 

She began every day with supplications, and prayers, and inter- 
cessions in private ; addressing herself to her God with all diligence 
and earnestness, and with a recollected spirit, and fervency. True 
it is that she allowed herself little intermission in this duty of prayer, 
every where attending to the all-seeing eye of God upon her, and 
having her soul winged, and carried up with holy pantings and aspi- 
rations towards him. So well did she know the mighty importance 
of prayer, its gracious acceptance with the Almighty, and its power- 
ful help to enlighten, relieve, strenghten, and purify the soul, that she 
made most public provision for the practice of it, as for herself, so 
also for her family, collecting all the members of it, excepting such 
as were necessarily detained, four times a day, for the exercise of 
this duty. Happy was it for those servants who came under her 
roof, for there was every thing for them that might do them good, in 
a gentle, gracious, considerate, bountiful, compassionate mistress, 
presiding over them with the disposition of a parent, providing for 
the improvement of their minds, for the decency of their behavior, 
and the inoffensiveness of their manners, and using every possible 
means and methods to bring them to true religion. And as her great 
talents were every way fitted to turn many to righteousness, so they 
were as successful, and she both near and afar off much enlarged the 
borders of God's kingdom. 

She much delighted in public worship, and constantly attended it. 
Her behavior in the house of God was solemn, and grave, and awful, 
and clear of all pharisaical affectation, and no doubt much quickened 
and animated the devotions of others. 

She was ever mindful of every jot and tittle of the law. In this 
spirit her care extended even to her cattle, because that it is declar- 
ed to be a property of mercy. She would have the skill and contri- 
vance of every artificer used in her house employed for the ease of 
her servants, and that they might suffer no inconvenience or hardship. 
Besides providing for the order, harmony, and peace of her family, 
she kept great elegance in and about her house, that her poor neigh- 
bors might not fall into idleness and poverty for want of employment; 
and, while she thus tenderly regarded the poor, she would visit the 
higher part of the world, lest those who sought after her friendship 
should complain of her, or fall into uncharitableness concerning her, 
or censure her for being proud and supercilious. 

A just display of her ladyship's art and manner in company would 
be to place her in one of the most amiable lights. Her talents for 
conversation were most shining and great, and more in truth than 



264 MEMOIRS OF 

she would allow herself to use ; accordingly, she would restrain a 
brisk and lively imagination, and give the demonstrative proofs of a 
deep and sound understanding, and to flourishes of wit and humor 
would prefer the much better ornaments of courtesy and complais- 
ance. It was her great care that they with whom she conversed 
should be convinced of the honor and esteem she bore them, to ob- 
serve a carriage by which none should be awed or made uneasy at 
the superiority of her condition, to see that she failed not in any part 
of right decorum, that none might think themselves neglected or 
overlooked by her, and to hear and speak according to what occur- 
red, or was before her, watching all the while with penetration and 
eagerness for a happy transition of the discourse to religion ; and, 
when that was once gained, she was then in the true enjoyment of 
her spirit, and was got into her natural element : for, to say the truth, 
in all her intercourses she was never rightly at ease unless religion 
had some place in the conversation, and she thought the spirit of it 
was dead, in the majority of the company at least, if there was an 
utter neglect and silence as to the one thing needful. 

At her table her countenance was open and serene ; her voice soft 
and melodious, her language polite, and seasoned with salt, treating 
of things useful and weighty, and bringing out of her rich treasures 
of wisdom things new and old. Here she displayed all the elegan- 
ces of good breeding, addressing herself to all with great meekness 
and condescension, and adapting herself to every one's respective 
talents and capacities. The smiles of her benevolence were enjoyed 
by all, and every one felt the sweetness of her company. 

As her house and table were rarely destitute pi one or more of 
her family, so she made them all the parts of herself, and embraced 
all her relations, according as they stood in the several degrees of 
consanguinity, with true and tender affection. She would also in- 
quire and seek after any of the withering and drooping branches of 
her family, and would kindly support and cherish them, directing 
her aim by kindnesses of this nature to serve their best interests, and 
lead them into the paths of godliness. 

But what shall we say of her care of all cares, the strangers, the 
fatherless, and the widow ; the needy, and him that hath no help- 
er ; the lame, the halt, and the blind ? These objects drew out the 
compassions of her soul. She had a share in all their sufferings ; 
she would often converse with them, and inquire into their history 
with the utmost condescension. She would study their particularca- 
ses, and put them in the way of a better condition. She would visit 
them in sickness, and bear the expenses of it. Some of them were 
ever in her court-yard, or in her house, and frequently in great num- 
bers; and it was not chargeable upon any neglect of hers, if any one 
went away unrelieved with meat, physic, clothing, or money, accord- 
ing to their several necessities, and many times a single person would 



LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 2G5 

receive all four. Many of those that lived remote had yearly al- 
lowances, and large sums frequently were sent into distant parts of 
the kingdom. 

Her still larger applications of her substance were fixed pensions 
upon reduced families, exhibitions to scholars in the universities, the 
maintenance of her own charity-school, her contributions to other 
schools, disbursements to religious societies for the propagation of the 
gospel in foreign parts, and for promoting Christian knowledge at 
home, and the erection and augmentation of churches. To which 
may be added, free and frequent remission of debts, in cases of strait- 
ness or insolvency ; together with a noble plenty and all becoming 
magnificence in her house, and mighty acts of generosity to relations, 
friends, and even to those who were neither. Her ladyship's declar- 
ed and most admirable rule was to give the first place to justice, the 
second to charity, and the third to generosity. Of this third method 
of applying her substance, surprising instances might be produced, 
as in five hundred pounds a year given to one relation, three thousand 
pounds in money to another, three hundred guineas, all the money 
that at the time was within her reach, and large promises of more, 
to a young lady who had very much impaired her fortune by engag- 
ing in the South-Sea scheme. 

At the same time there were these visible glories that adorned her 
ladyship's life, and spread holiness around her; she well knew that 
the great scene of religion lies within, and in the right government 
there, called the hidden man of the heart : accordingly her eye was 
ever upon her heart, to see that all its principles were cleansed from 
evil mixtures, that they had no taint of self-love, and were not sulli- 
ed with vain-glory, to observe the tendency of all its motions, which 
way the bias of it was set, and how its struggles weakened towards 
sinful excursions ; and she would continually cherish the divine life 
by acts of faith in the blood of her Redeemer, by rating her own 
righteousness as nothing, and by marking well, and daily committing 
to writing all her slips, and penitentially mourning over them. 

Such were the diligence and circumspection which this lady used 
in her Christian calling. In this practice of piety did she walk close- 
ly with her God, and in this manner, through a series of almost thirty 
years, did she shine, the bright example of every virtue, at the same 
time that she gave a clear demonstration on how right a basis every 
thing stood, and by what principles she was governed, in that she 
could never endure to hear one word spoken in her own praise. 

We shall now accompany her to the closing scene. As was her 
day such washer evening, if indeed her sun did not go down with an 
improved and redoubled lustre. Her ladyship, in early life, had re- 
ceived a contusion upon her right breast, which left behind it a small 
inward tumor, attended with little or no disturbance, and, for that 
cause, probably not much regarded. This continued several years 
without any sensible increase, till about twenty months before her 

34 



266 MEMOIRS OF 

death it gave her cause of complaint, upon which application was 
made to a reverend gentleman, (Dr. Johnson,) very eminent for his 
skill in surgery, who, upon sight and examination, was clear in his 
judgment, that there was an absolute necessity that the affected part 
should be separated from the body. 

" What her ladyships's first impressions were upon hearing of this, 
I will not," says the author of her historical character, " undertake 
to relate : perhaps nature might flinch at first." But a neighboring 
clergyman, who had a correspondence with one in the family, being 
made acquainted by his friend what afflicting sorrow the family was 
in, and his friend in particular, without being informed from what 
cause, he imagined that it was no common matter, but something of 
a very distressing nature, and something, too, in which her ladyship 
had a very large share, this clergyman immediately wrote back, as 
suitably as he could, upon no other grounds than his own conjecture, 
and happily touched upon the necessity of sufferings, setting forth 
briefly those which Christ endured in the flesh, and observing that 
he will bring all his followers in conformity to himself in all things, 
and that sufferings were the way to his perfection, and must be so to 
ours, and that they are the expressly declared condition of our being 
glorified with him, the marks and characteristics of our adoption, and 
the most sovereign medicines sent from heaven to heal our spiritual 
diseases. 

Her ladyship beforehand saw into the truth of all this, as she had 
well explored and digested every other truth in the whole system of 
our holy religion, and would often express some uneasiness that her 
own sufferings, in the account she made of them, should in a manner 
be little or none. And it was the sentiment of one, who had a station 
under her, and was not unskilled in this kind of knowledge, that the 
mighty torrent of sufferings, which broke in upon her at the last, 
was designed by her heavenly Father for this end among others to 
solace her spirit, and to strengthen her assurance that she had every 
mark and token of her favor and acceptance with him. 

The letter mentioned above was shown to her ladyship, who, with 
an emotion beyond what was usual with her, declared, " that she 
would not wish to be out of her present situation for all the world, 
nor exchange it for any other at any price ;" and accordingly with 
great meekness and tranquillity, without any change in her temper, 
with a cheerfulness scarce to be believed, in perfect serenity and 
freedom, she went through every day till the time appointed for the 
operation, as one who sat loose to, and was indifferent for life or 
death. 

When the day came for the excision of her breast, great skill and 
wisdom were used in all things, every bad event was guarded against, 
and her hands were held by men of strength — but her hands might 
have been held by a spider's thread. She shewed no reluctance, 
no struggle, or contention, nor did she even make any complaint ; 



LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 267 

only, indeed, towards the end of her bloody baptism, she drew such 
a sigh, as any compassionate reader may do to be told this. Though 
even this small expression of anguish has been denied by a clergy- 
man of great worth, who assisted at the operation, and was one of 
the number who held her ladyship's hands, and from his account 
one would think that her flesh was as insensible of pain as her spirit 
was superior to it. 

The following night was not indeed a night of much sleep, but it 
was a night of truly celestial rest ; a night of thanksgiving to her God 
for the visible demonstration of his power in and about her, for his 
stretched out arm in her great deliverance, for the bountiful provis- 
ions he had made for all the occasions of her body and soul, and, in 
a word, for all his blessings, holding all the powers of her spirit in 
tuneful employment, and exercising them in acts of love, gratitude, 
and adoration ; so that some doubt may be made whether the Israel- 
ites, with their heavenly-commissioned captain at the head of them, 
offered more acceptable melody to their Almighty Deliverer, after 
their escape from Pharaoh and his armies at the Red Sea, than did 
this lady at this juncture, under distresses, one would think, superior 
to what theirs had been. 

Her ladyship, sooner than was expected, was restored; and, with 
every improvement that could be made, returned into the same tenor 
of life which she had so long observed before, in some variety of em- 
ployments indeed, but such as were calculated for the glory of God, 
and the good of mankind. 

She saw what an excellent and serviceable handmaid learning was 
to religion, and upon that account was a great lover of it, and indeed 
was far from being destitute of learning herself, for she was able to 
compose and judge well, and could mark out the beauties, excellen- 
cies, errors, and defects in authors, and whether they were written 
in taste or not ; and as to practical divinity, and thingsbelonging to the 
direction of conscience, she rarely ever made an erroneous deter- 
mination. 

Impressed with these sentiments, and possessed of these talents, 
she thought provision made for the better state of learning, as it is 
begun and carried on in schools, and further promoted and finished 
in universities, was a right exercise of her attention and care, and a 
proper object for her munificent donations ; and how suitable and pro- 
portioned to the magnificence of her spirit these were, may be found 
in the codicil annexed to her will, containing the devise of her ma- 
nor of Wheldale to the provost and scholars of Queen's College, Ox- 
ford, for the educating students for the ministry. 

In the weakly condition in which she now must be, it was very 
much her employment to provide that all her settlements should be 
secured from prostitution, and guarded against spoil and depredation, 
and that all her good purposes might be followed with execution and 
effect. To this end, with an indefatigable industry, she digested, 



268 MEMOIRS OF 

improved, enlarged, and altered several schemes, rules, orders, and 
provisions, and all this very much from her own ability and wisdom. 

But this care, this work, this labor of love, to which she dedicated 
a large share of her estate, and for many years a large stock of her 
health, were shortly to be exchanged for tranquillity and rest. The 
distemper, only repressed for a time, broke out with new malignity, 
to the much greater affliction of thousands in the world, than of her 
that bore it for she had now been for some time in the school of afflic- 
tion, had been exercised with its sharpest discipline, and had found 
its salutary effects, and, as she had lost one part of her body without 
being shaken or hurt, so she trusted in God that, if there was need, 
as in reality there was an expectation, she might with safety lose 
another, and she knew that her own sufferings were infinitely short 
of what her Savior endured for her on the cross, and that there was 
great probability that the last draught of her cup might not be so 
bitter as was the first. Under these views and sentiments her 
hope was full of immortality, and the eternal weight of glory now 
in full prospect, made all her afflictions light. Her faith was not 
to be diverted from it, though her condition would not allow her for 
several months, for obtaining any ease, to turn herself in her bed, 
and therefore she would hold to her long-established purposes, and 
strive to enter in at the strait gate, and excel every thing that 
was past as much as she could, not looking back at the things 
that were behind, but pressing forward to the things that were be- 
fore. Though she had little appetite to eat, she could find strength 
to pray, and, as the author of her historical character verily believes, 
she suffered not any one hour of the day to pass without prayer. 
But every other duty is to be attended to as well as this, and doing 
good to the souls of others was ever the same with her doing good to 
her own; and because her family mourned, and refused to be com- 
forted, some of them perhaps having less acquiescence in the divine 
will than she had, she would therefore be cheerful, that they might 
cease to weep ; and for a pattern for them, when in like circumstan- 
ces with hers, she made no complaints among them which a mortal 
creature could suppress, and accepted all their kindness and services 
with condescending acknowledgments, passing by without observa- 
tion any errors, mistakes, neglects, or inadvertences, into which any 
of them might fall. 

In this near and certain approach of death, her cherishing warmth, 
like that of the sun, though it might be most felt by those of her fam- 
ily, yet reached those of greater distance. Witness the great num- 
ber of letters she wrote and dictated to others, when she became un- 
able to write herself, full of sweet counsel, having for their argument 
the blessedness of piety, setting forth its true nature and pressing 
home the necessity of it, and witness also the great resort to her house 
of parsons of all conditions to behold the living power of religion in 
her, and to be partakers of, and be benefited by, her wisdom, whom 



LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 269 

she would instruct herself, or engage those who had any talent that 
way to do, having them in great numbers about her, and continuing 
in heavenly conversation and conferences with them as long as she 
had strength to speak, and keeping up her attention to others when 
her strength was gone. At other seasons she would seek out for, 
and draw to her, the company of holy persons, refreshing and warm- 
ing her spirit with them, as her great delight was ever in them; she 
and they mutually giving and receiving light, heat, comfort, and 
strength from the words of the wise, and their divine sayings. She 
and they at the same time having their spirits mingled and holding 
mystical communion with all the saints upon earth, and in heaven ; 
as her alms all along, in the same series of days, under the great and 
necessary expenses upon herself, under every other increase of ex- 
pense still driving on, and carried with a like impetuous succession 
as the waves of a swelling tide. " Where," would she often say to 
those about her, " is there a poor member of Christ's whom I can 
comfort and refresh ?" Silver and gold were given to many who very 
rarely had seen so much which they could call their own, and in 
this period forty guineas were issued in one sum for the enlargement 
of a gentleman who was a prisoner for debt at Rothwell, though she 
had never seen him, or heard any thing of him, except some few 
words of his case, and in his favor, in all her life before. 

Her ladyship was for several months separated from public wor- 
ship, of which she was a great lover, and to observe which she held 
herself under sacred and inviolable obligations. So great and exem- 
plary was her zeal in this respect, that she could not excuse herself 
from an attendance at the house of God for having had a bad night, 
or for having taken a little cold, or because the roads were deep, and 
there was some danger that the coach would be overturned, but she 
continued to go under great want of sleep, and great cold taken, and 
even under afflictions worse than these, even after her coach had 
been overturned, and after part of her body was mouldering in the 
church yard : but now impediments were thrown in her way which 
she could not possibly overcome. What must she do in this dis- 
tress ? Her expedient was, now she could not go to the church, to 
bring the church as far as she could to herself. Accordingly she 
had in this season the established service, as formerly, daily read, 
and the holy sacrament administered to her every Lord's day. 

She was now in a very tottering state, though with less pain, or at 
least less complaint, than ever could be thought of, or rationally ex- 
pected. The skill of the reverend gentleman already mentioned 
cannot be praised according to his merit. Under God he kept her 
pains moderate, and gave her relaxation and relief under every dis- 
tress. But her firmest support was her faith in Christ, which fifty 
years ago being only as a grain of mustard seed, had now grown up 
into a spreading tree, and shy could refresh herself under its sha- 
dow. By the virtue of this grace she had overcome the fears of 



270 MEMOIRS OF 

death, and taken out its sting ; and neither the sight of death, nor 
the rigor of the law, could in the least dismay her soul. She had 
walked by the rule the law of God had set her; and, though she 
had not perfectly obeyed it, yet her Redeemer had, and his right- 
eousness was hers, and wrought for her, and he spoke peace to her 
spirit, and strengthened her with assurance that, as he had long 
brought her up in his nurture and admonition, and was now putting 
his last hand for the finishing his own work, so the gates of his king- 
dom were opened for her entrance into his joy. 

But she knew she must wait his pleasure, and desired nothing but 
it ; though it must not be admitted that her ladyship had a willingness, 
consistent enough with her full resignation to the divine will, to trav- 
el still in the wilderness till such time as her durable charities were 
established by law. Dr. Johnson, at once the physician of her body 
and soul, knew this and directed all his skill for the continuance of 
her life, till her benevolent wishes were accomplished ; and so indul- 
gent was the Almighty to her in this respect, that she survived the 
legal and necessary time by seven or eight days ; when with triumph 
she entered into the joy of her Lord. 

We shall add to the above account of this most excellent lady 
what may be called its epitome, as it was published in the Gentle- 
man's Magazine for January, 1740, p. 36, in the list of deaths for 
the year 1740. The first of them is the following article : — "De- 
cember 22, 1739. The Honorable the Lady Elizabeth Hastings, 
at her seat at Ledstone, Yorkshire, sister to George late Earl of Hun- 
tingdon, and half sister to Theophilus the present Earl. Though 
the splendor of her birth was truly great, it seemed as it were eclip- 
sed by her shining qualities. She was amiable in her person, gen- 
teel in her mien, polite in her manners, and agreeable in her con- 
versation. Her judgment was solid, her regard to friendship sacred 
and her sense of honor strict to the last degree ; and she was of so 
rare modesty and humility, that a more disagreeable thing could not 
be done than publishing her good deeds, and rendering her due 
praise. She was, above all, a sincere Christian. Her piety towards 
God was ardent and unaffected, and her benevolence towards man- 
kind was such as the good angels are blessed with. Thousands had 
she comforted and relieved, many enriched and advanced. Her pa- 
tience and resignation under her last, long and tedious sickness, her 
mourning for the sins of men, her unwearied endeavors for their 
eternal welfare, her generous and charitable apppointments, her ten- 
der expressions to her relations, friends and servants, and her grate- 
ful acknowledgments to her physicians, require whole pages to set 
them in a proper light. In short scarce any age has afforded a great- 
er blessing to many, or a brighter example to all. Her corpse was 
interred, with great funeral solemnity, in the family vault at Ledstone, 
near her grandfather, Sir John Lewis, Bart., the following inscrip- 
tion being put upon her leaden coffin, &c." 



LADY ELIZABETH HASTINGS. 271 

The Right. Hon. the Lady Elizabeth Hastings, 
Daughter of Theophilus, Earl of Huntingdon, 
By Elizabeth his first wife 
Daughter and co-heir of Sir John Lewis, 

Knight and Baronet. 
From whom descended to her the manors of 
Ledstone, Ledsham, Thorparch, Collingham, Weldale, 
Wyke, and Shadwell. 
In the four first she erected charity schools, 
And for the support of them and other charities, 
She gave, in her life time, Collingham, Shadwell, 
And her estate in Burton Salmon. 
She was born the 19th of April, 1682. 
Died the 22d of December, 1739. 
A pattern to succeeding ages 
Of all that's good, and all that's great, 



( 



272 



LADY HUNTINGDON. 



Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, was the daughter of Washing- 
ton, Earl of Ferrers; was born Aug. 24, 1707, and married June 3, 
1728, toTheophilus Earl of Huntingdon. 

In her early youth, when about nine years old, the sight of a corpse 
about her own age, carried to the grave, engaged her to attend the 
funeral, and there the first impressions of deep seriousness about an 
eternal world laid hold of her conscience ; and with many tears she 
cried earnestly on the spot to God, that whenever he was pleased to 
call her hence, he would deliver her from all her fears, and give her 
a happy departure; she often afterwards visited the grave, and al- 
ways preserved a lively sense of the affecting scene. 

Though no clear views of evangelical truth had hitherto been open- 
ed to her mind, she frequently retired to her closet, and poured out 
her heart to God. When she grew up and was introduced into the 
world, she continued to pray, that if she married, it might be into a 
serious family. None kept up more of the ancient dignity of Eng- 
lish nobility than the house of Huntingdon, or were more amiable in 
a moral view, and with the head of that family she became united. 
Lady Betty and Lady Margaret Hastings, his lordship's sisters, were 
women of singular excellence. 

Her sister-in-law, Lady Margaret, was brought to the saving 
knowledge of the gospel under the preaching of the zealous method- 
ists of that time. Conversing one day with Lady Margaret on this 
subject, Lady Huntingdon was very much struck with a sentiment 
she uttered, " that since she had known and believed in the Lord 
Jesus Christ for life and salvation, she had been as happy as an an- 
gel." To any such sensations of happiness, Lady H. felt that 
she was yet a stranger. A dangerous illness having soon after this 
brought her to the brink of the grave, the fear of death fell terribly 
upon her, and her conscience was greatly distressed : under these 
affecting circumstances the words of Lady Margaret returned strong- 
ly to her recollection, and she felt an earnest desire, renouncing all 
other hope, to cast herself wholly upon Christ : she lifted up her 
heart to Jesus the Savior in prayer, her distress and fear were remo- 
ved, and she was filled with joy and peace in believing. Her dis- 
order soon took a favorable turn, and she was not only restored to 
perfect health, but, what was infinitely better, to newness of life, and 
determined thenceforward to present herself to God as a living sacri- 
fice, holy and acceptable, which she was now convinced was her rea- 
sonable service. 



MEMOIRS, &C 273 



The change which divine grace thus wrought upon her ladyship, 
soon became observable to all around her, by the open confession 
which she made of the faith once delivered to the saints, and by the 
zealous support which she gave to the cause of God, amidst all the 
reproach with which it was attended : she had set her face as a flint, 
and was not ashamed of Christ and his cross. There were not want- 
ing indeed some, who under the guise of friendship wished Lord 
Huntingdon to interpose his authority: but however he differed from 
her in sentiment, he continued to shew her the same affection and 
respect, and on his demise left her the entire management of her chil- 
dren and of their fortunes. 

Some of the dignified clergy were not so candid and liberal, as 
appears from the following authentic anecdote. Her ladyship one 
day in conversation with Dr. Benson, bishop of Gloucester, (who 
had been the tutor of Lord H. and had ordained Mr. Whitefield,) 
pressed him so hard with the articles and homilies, and so plainly and 
faithfully urged upon him the awful responsibility of his station, that 
his temper was ruffled, and he rose in haste to depart, bitterly la- 
menting that he had ever laid his hands on George Whitefield, to 
whom he imputed, though without cause, the change wrought in her 
ladyship. Calling him back : " My lord," said she, " mark my 
words : when you come upon your dying bed, that will be one of the 
few ordinations you will reflect upon with complacence." It de- 
serves remark, that bishop Benson on his dying bed sent ten guineas 
to Mr. Whitefield, as a token of his favor, and begged to be remem- 
bered by him in his prayers. 

During Lord Huntingdon's life, his countess warmly espoused the 
cause of God and truth, though her means of usefulness were neces- 
sarily circumscribed, and her family engagements occupied much of 
her time and attention. Having become her own mistress, she re- 
solved to devote herself wholly to the service of Christ, and the souls 
redeemed by him. Her zealous heart embarced cordially all she 
esteemed as real Christians, whatever their denomination or opin- 
ions might be ; but being herself in sentiment more congenial with 
Mr. Whitefield, than the Mr. Wesleys, she favored those who were 
the ministers of the Calvinistic persuasion, according to the literal 
sense of the articles of the Church of England. And with an in- 
tention of giving them a greater scene of usefulness, she opened her 
house in Park-street for the preaching of the gospel, supposing, as a 
peeress of the realm, that she had an indisputable right to employ, 
as her family chaplains, ihose ministers of the church whom she pat- 
ronised. On the week days her kitchen was filled with the poor of 
the flock, for whom she provided instruction ; and on the Lord's-day 
the great and noble were invited to spend the evening in her draw- 
ing-room, where Mr. Whitefield, Mr. Romaine, Mr. Jones, and oth- 
er ministers of Christ, addressed to them faithfully the word of life, 
and were heard with apparently deep and serious attention. 

35 



274 MEMOIRS OF 

For the supply of her chapels, Lady Huntingdon first confined 
herself to the ministers of the established church, as her preachers, 
many of whom accepted her invitation, and labored in the places 
which she had opened : but her zeal enlarging with her success, and 
a great variety of persons throughout the kingdom begging her assis- 
tance, in London, and many of the most populous cities, she pur- 
chased, built, or hired chapels for the performance of divine service. 
As these multiplied through England, Ireland and Wales, the min- 
isters who had before labored for her ladyship, were unequal to the 
task ; and some unwilling to move in a sphere so extensive, and 
which began to be branded as irregular, and to meet great opposition : 
yet many persevered in their services, when summoned to the work, 
and were content to bear the cross. 

In order to provide proper persons for the work, her ladyship now 
retired to South Wales, and erected a chapel and college in the pa- 
rish of Talgarth, Brecknockshire. The chapel was opened in 1768. 
The college was provided with able teachers, and soon filled with 
students. From that retirement Lady Huntingdon despatched the 
requisite supplies for the increased congregations under her patro- 
nage ; and as the calls were often urgent, her students were too fre- 
quently thrust forth into the harvest, before they had made any con- 
siderable proficiency in the languages, or sacred literature, in which 
it had been her intention they should be instructed. Few of them 
knew much more than their native tongue ; yet being men of strong 
sense, and real devoted ness to God, their ministry was greatly bless- 
ed, and the accounts of their success animated her to greater exer- 
tions. They were itinerant — moved from congregation to congrega- 
tion in a rotation established ; and her correspondence with them to 
regulate and provide a constant supply, was a labor to which her ac- 
tive spirit alone was equal. 

The seminary in Wales ceased at her ladyship's death, the lease 
having just expired, and no endowment left, her income dying with 
her : but a new college on a plan more promising for literature, has 
been established at Cheshunt, in Hertfordshire, near London : and 
under the superintending care of trustees, appointed for that purpose 
a number of students have already been educated there ; and many 
are gone forth, now preaching the gospel, from this seminary. 

Her ladyship still devising plans for the diffusion of the gospel, es- 
pecially in places where Satan had his seat, erected, in the year 
1769, a chapel at Tunbridge Wells, so much frequented for many 
years by the great and gay of the metropolis, and yet a place of 
fashionable resort. Nor was the metropolis itself, that emporium of 
error and dissipation, forgotten by her benevolent and ardent mind. 
A large building in Spa Fields called the Pantheon, had been erect- 
ed for entertaining and amusing parties of pleasure, especially on the 
Lord's day. The Rev. Herbert Jones and William Taylor, two 
clergymen under the patronage of Lady Huntingdon, took the place 



LADY HUNTINGDON. 275 

for religious worship; and it was opened, July 6, 1777, with a ser- 
mon by the former clergyman, on the very appropriate text, Gen. 
xxviii. 19, " And he (Jacob) called the name of that place Bethel; 
but the name of that city was called Luz, at the first." The place 
will contain more than two thousand, and its local situation is highly 
favorable. This chapel, however, soon became an object of dislike 
to the strict members of the Establishment. Accordingly, a suit was 
instituted by the minister of the parish of Clerkenwell, in the con- 
sistorial court of the Bishop of London, against the two clergymen 
who officiated there. To that spiritual court they were summoned, 
and were forbidden to preach there any longer, on pain of expul- 
sion from the church. They chose to obey God rather than man ; 
and Lady Huntingdon, having purchased the chapel, several clergy- 
men seceded from the established church, and put themselves under 
the protection of the toleration act. These clergymen drew up and 
subscribed a confession of faith ; which was afterwards signed by 
all the ministers in her ladyship's connexion, and by candidates for 
ordination. The first six were ordained in Spa Fields Chapel, 
March 9, 1783, by the Rev. Messrs. Wills and Taylor. The doc- 
trines taught in all the countess's chapels are strictly evangelical, 
while the episcopalian mode of worship is used, though some altera- 
tions are made in the liturgy, particularly respecting baptism and bu- 
rial. 

Some years afterwards, Lady Huntingdon purchased another 
large place in Whitechapel, which had been intended for a theatre, 
and was constructed accordingly. No material alterations were 
deemed necessary ; and it was perhaps proper to shew by substan- 
tial and permanent signs, the triumph of wisdom and goodness over 
folly and vice. The dressing rooms for the actors were converted 
into a vestry, and the pulpit is erected on the front of the stage. 
The pit is filled with the poor, to whom the gospel is preached ; and 
the galleries exhibit decent, serious hearers of the word of life. 
The place, which is in the form of a low, yet wide spread taberna- 
cle, will hold five thousand persons, and bears the name of Sion 
Chapel. 

Such are her ladyship's principal chapels. There are several 
others of less note, which our limits prevent us from specifying and 
describing. 

Though Lady Huntingdon devoted the whole of her substance 
to the gospel, yet it is not a little surprising how her income sufficed 
for the immensity of expense in which she was necessarily involved. 
Her jointure was not more than twelve hundred pounds a year : and 
only after the death of her son, a few years preceding her own, she 
had the addition of another thousand. She often involved herself 
in expenses for building chapels, which she found it burthensome to 
discharge ; but the Lord brought her always honorably through her 
engagements, and provided a supply when her own was exhausted. 



276 MEMOIRS OF 

Lady Huntingdon's person, endowments and spirit, were all un- 
common. She was rather above the middle size, her presence noble 
and commanding respect ; her address singularly engaging ; her in- 
telligence acute ; her diligence indefatigable ; and the constant labor 
of her thought and correspondence inconceivable. During forty five 
years of widowhood, she devoted her time, talents and substance to 
the support and diffusion of the gospel. 

To the age of fourscore and upwards, she maintained all the vig- 
or of youth ; and though in her latter years the contraction of her 
throat reduced her almost wholly to a liquid diet, her spirits never 
seemed to fail her ; and to the very last days of her life, her active 
mind was planning still greater and more extensive schemes of use- 
fulness, for the universal spread of the gospel of Christ. 

Her most distinguishing excellence was, the fervent zeal which 
always burned in her bosom, to make known the gospel of the grace 
of God ; which no disappointments quenched, no labors slackened, 
no opposition discouraged, no progress of years abated ; it flamed 
strongest in her latest moments. The world has seldom seen such a 
character — thousands and tens of thousands will have reason, living 
and dying to bless her memory, as having been the happy instrument 
of bringing them out of darkness into marvelous light ; and multi- 
tudes saved by her instrumentality, have met in the regions of glory 
to rejoice together in the presence of God and of the Lamb. 

But it may be said by some was she a perfect character? No. This 
is not the lot of mortals on this side of the grave. When the moon 
walketh in her brightness, her shadows are most visible. 

Lady Huntingdon was in her temper warm and sanguine — her 
predilections for some, and her prejudices against others, were some- 
times too hastily adopted — and by these she was led to form conclu- 
sions not always correspondent with truth and wisdom. 

The success attending her efforts seemed to impress her mind 
with a persuasion, that a particular benediction would rest upon 
whomsoever she should send forth, and rendered her choice not al- 
ways judicious ; though seldom were there ever less offenses in so 
extended a work. 

She had so long directed the procedures of her connexion, that 
she too seldom asked the advice of the judicious ministers who la- 
bored with her ; and bore not passively contradiction. 

For many years Lady Huntingdon had two female companions 
who lived with her on terms of the most cordial friendship, Miss 
Scutt and Lady Ann Erskine ; the latter sister to the Earl of Bu- 
chan, and to the two famous counselors of that name. These la- 
dies, and particularly the latter, co-operated with the Countess in net- 
work and labor of Christian love, and were constantly present during 
her last illness. 

In the month of November 1790, Lady Huntingdon broke a 
blood vessel, which was the commencement of her last illness. On 



LADY HUNTINGDON. 277 

being then asked how she did, by Lady Ann, she replied, " I am 
well ; all is well ! well for ever ! 1 see, wherever I turn my eyes, 
whether I live or die, nothing but victory." As death drew nearer, 
though it was delayed for some months, she often repeated with 
great emphasis, " The coming of the Lord draweth nigh ! O Lady 
Ann, the coming of the Lord draweth nigh !" adding, " the thought 
fills my soul with joy unspeakable, whether I shall see his glory 
more abundantly appear, or whether it be an intimation of my own 
departure to him." At another time : " All the little ruffles and 
difficulties which surround me, and all the pains I am exercised with 
in this poor body, through mercy, affect not the settled peace and 
joy of my soul." 

To a friend who called on her a few weeks before her death, she 
said, " I see myself a poor worm drawing near to Jesus : what hope 
could I entertain if I did not know the efficacy of his blood, and 
turn as a prisoner of hope to his hold ? — How little could any thing 
of mine give a moment's rest to a departing soul ? So much sin and 
self mixed with the best, and always so short of what we owe ! — 
'Tis well for us that he can pity and pardon : and we have confidence 
that he will do so. — I confess, my dear friend, I have no hope, but 
that which inspired the dying malefactor at the side of my .Lord ; 
and I must be saved in the same way, as freely, as fully, or not 
at all." 

He replied, " Madam, I cordially join you, and feel with you, 
that though our lives may be devoted to the work of Jesus, and our 
deaths the consequence of his service, it is not to these sacrifices we 
should look for comfort in a dying hour." She replied, " No, ve- 
rily :" — and enlarging on the idea of the mixture of infirmity and 
corruption which tarnished all our best meant services, she added. 
"That a sinner could only rest satisfactorily on one foundation, and 
would find nothing in the best works of his best days, that he could 
dare to produce before God for its own sake — sufficiently blessed and 
secure, if he could but cry, God be merciful to me a sinner, and 
let me be found in the beloved, and complete in him." To these, 
in the course of a long conversation, were added many like words 
of truth and grace. 

During the whole of her illness, her pains never made her impa- 
tient ; but she seemed more concerned about those who attended her 
than about herself. She said, tenderly, to Lady Ann Erskine and 
Miss Scutt, whose long, faithful, and tender attachment to her is well 
known, " I fear I shall be the death of you both," (alluding to their 
constant watching with her) ; — " it will be but a few days more." 

But a few days before her decease, Lady Huntingdon said to a 
friend, " I cannot tell you in what light I now see these words : ' If 
a man love me, he will keep my words, and my Father will love 
him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.' — 
To have in this room such company, and to have such an eternal 



278 MEMOIRS OF 

prospect, I see this subject now in a light impossible to be described. 
I know my capacity will be then enlarged, but I am now as sensible 
of the presence of God, as I am of the presence of those I have 
with me." 

On the very day of her death she conversed about sending mis- 
sionaries to Tahiti. She had often in her lifetime mentioned, that 
from the first moment that God set her soul at liberty, she had such 
a desire for the conversion of souls, that she compared herself to a 
ship in full sail before the wind, and that she was carried on by such 
a divine influence as was not easily to be described. 

An abundant entrance, suitable to a life so influenced, was minis- 
tered to her into heaven ; for almost her last words were, " My work 
is done, I have nothing to do but go to my Father." Her ladyship 
died at her house in Spa Fields, next door to the chapel, June 17, 
1791, in the 84th year of her age. 

The body according to a direction somewhat whimsical, was clo- 
thed in a suit of white silk, with the same head dress which her la- 
dyship usually wore, and in that attire was buried in the family vault, 
at Ashby-de-la-Zouch in Leicestershire : her funeral sermon was 
preached at Spa Fields Chapel, on the Lord's day, July 3, 1791, by 
the Rev. David Jones of Langan, on Genesis li. 24. " And Joseph 
said unto his brethren, behold I die, and God will surely visit you." 

We shall subjoin a letter respecting Lady Huntingdon from an 
excellent judge, Dr. Lettsom, who, though of a different religious 
persuasion, paid a just tribute to her memory. The letter was writ- 
ten on occasion of her death, and addressed to Lady Ann Erskine. 

" Dear Lady A. E. — I deeply sympathize with thee and all the 
family in Christ, in the removal of that evangelic woman so lately 
among us, the Countess of Huntingdon. Your souls were so united, 
and your affections so endeared together, that I cannot but feel in a 
particular manner on thy account, lest the mournful state of thy mind 
may undermine thy constitution, and endanger a life spent in mitiga- 
ting the painful sufferings of body of our deceased friend while living. 
Her advanced age, and debilitated frame, had long prepared my mind 
for an event which has at length deprived the world of its brightest 
ornament. How often have we, when sitting by her sick-bed, wit- 
nessed the faithful composure with which she has viewed this awful 
change ! Not with the fearful prospect of doubt ; not with the dread- 
ful apprehension of the judgment of an offended Creator. Hers was 
all peace within, a tranquillity and cheerfulness which conscious accep- 
tance alone could convey. How often have we seen her, elevated 
above the earth and earthly things, uttering this language : ' My work 
is done, 1 have nothing to do but to go to my heavenly Father.' Let 
us, therefore, under a firm conviction of her felicity, endeavor to 
follow her, as she followed her Redeemer. Let us be thankful that 
she was preserved to advanced age with the perfect exercise of her 
mental faculties ; and that under long and painful days and nights of 



LADY HUNTINGDON. 279 

sickness she never repined, but appeared constantly animated in 
prayer and thankfulness for the unutterable mercies she experienced. 
When I look back upon the last years of my attendance, and connect 
with it the multitudes of others whom my profession has introduced 
me to, I feel consolation in acknowledging, that, of all the daughters 
of affliction, she exhibited the greatest degree of Christian com- 
posure that I ever witnessed ; and that submission to divine allot- 
ment, however severe and painful, which nothing but divine aid could 
inspire." 



280 



THE RIGHT HONORABLE 

LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE, 



Genuine greatness and nobility, a heathen observed, were to be 
found alone in exalted virtue ; and we know that those great in the 
sight of the Lord, are not usually to be found in high rank, or enti- 
tled ; " not many mighty, not many noble, are called." Yet some 
singular exceptions are happily seen, demonstrating that the Lord 
hath in his hand the hearts of all men ; and where such rare instan- 
ces occur, they necessarily stand on an eminence, and engage more 
particular attention. 

The noble lady, who is the subject of this Memoir, was the daugh- 
ter of the Earl of Buchan, by a lady of the House of Stuart, and 
the eldest of a numerous family ; some of the branches of which, 
were lately the first ornaments of the Bar in England and Scotland ; 
and more distinguished by their talents and integrity than even by 
the nobility of their descent. The names of Thomas and Henry 
Erskine need only be mentioned to be universally known and hon- 
ored. But these with all the numerous branches of the house of 
Buchan, are gathered to a lamented and an honored tomb. Such is 
the lot of mortality, — no greatness nor excellence can stay the de- 
parting spirit ! Happy are they who are always waiting their appoint- 
ed change, and ready to welcome it ! Surviving relatives have a pe- 
culiar call to remember, what we are all so ready to confess and to 
forget, — that to morrow we die ! 

As our memorials especially embrace the faithful in Christ Jesus, 
it may be pleasing to remark, that the great grandfather of Lady Ann 
was a man of distinguished piety, of Kirkhill, and a considerable suf- 
ferer in the cause of religious profession in the days of Charles the 
Second : and as the names of Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine have re- 
ceived a stamp of especial reverence in the religious world, it may 
not be uninteresting to observe, that they were (as we are informed) 
branches of this family ; and that the house in which they lived, is 
preserved by the present Lord Buchan, in its primitive state, as a 
relic and memorial of them. 

Her early days were spent in Scotland ; and she mentioned to a 
lady, her acquaintance, the gracious dealings of the Lord, when she 
was only about seven or eight years old. Her maid was reading to 
her a little book of the nature of Janeway's Token for Children ; and 
the Life of Amelia Geddie, a little girl remarkable for early piety, 
made a deep impression on her mind, which she for a while retain- 



MEMOIRS, &C 281 

ed; and at times prayed with fervor and feeling; and, as she then 
thought, with real answers to her prayer in repeated instances, hoth 
of childish infirmity and desires. A guitar, which she preserved to 
the day of her death, and sometimes amused her, though far from a 
proficient, was one of the instances she mentioned. Her mother, 
Lady Buchan, was on a visit from home at Edinburgh, and was to 
bring her something. Ann was waiting her return ; and one day 
praying, she thought, What shall I ask to be brought me ? and a 
guitar struck her mind, though she had never learned, nor thought 
of it before ; and she prayed this might be brought her. Her moth- 
er, just coming through the street, thought of Ann as she passed a 
music-shop, and preferring a guitar to a toy, went in and bought it. 
" What have I got for you, Ann?" said she. — "A guitar." Trifling 
as this may seem, it left an abiding impression that there was a God 
that heard and answered prayer. 

As she grew up, her early impressions wore off; and for some 
years she lived like too many of her rank and sex, in fashionable fol- 
lies, and in the company of those who were strangers to themselves, 
little affected about the eternal world into which they were going, 
whose frivolity and love of pleasure left no place for matters of more 
solemn consideration. About this time the Earl of Buchan, for his 
family convenience, removed to Bath ; and there commenced her ac- 
quaintance with the great and excellent Lady Huntingdon, whose life 
was spent in endeavoring to do good ; and her efforts especially, di- 
rected, at that time, to those of her own rank and station. An ac- 
quaintance formed about this time with the elder branches of the 
Hawkstone family, eminent for their excellence, whom she visited, 
contributed to fix the sense of divine truths on her mind ; and she 
became a professor of the principles of evangelical religion. A grow- 
ing intimacy with Lady Huntingdon contributed to confirm her mind; 
and some congeniality of spirit probably engaged Lady Huntingdon 
to invite Lady Ann to be with her as her friend and companion; and 
as this was equally pleasing to both, for many years of the latter part 
of Lady Huntingdon's life, she was her constant friend and intimate. 
During these years, as a helper in the truth, she walked with her 
aged friend in great affection, making herself useful in assisting to 
discharge the burthen of cares and engagements in which Lady 
Huntingdon was involved : and how well she approved herself, may 
be concluded from the disposition that good lady made of her affairs 
to such as she thought would most faithfully pursue the line she had 
so successfully drawn. 

At Lady Huntingdon's decease, Lady Ann Erskine, with several 
other persons, were appointed trustees and executors of her will. 

During Lady Huntingdon's life, Lady Ann was only known as 
zealously disposed to promote the cause of truth, without appearing 
in any prominent character, not being by Providence favored with 
the liberal provision which her predecessor enjoyed, and which died 

36 



282 MEMOIRS OF 

with her. Indeed, her zeal always outran her income ; and though 
no person ever spent so little on herself as Lady Huntingdon, she 
left such incumbrances as her estate was unequal to discharge, un- 
less some of her chapels were disposed of. These incumbrances 
her executors and other friends immediately undertook to discharge, 
and preserve them for the purposes to which they had been devoted. 
It was on this occasion that Lady Ann Erskine was called forth to a 
more distinguished station than she had yet filled. 

When Lady Huntingdon's disposition was known, a consultation 
of the trustees agreed, that as Lady Ann was better acquainted with 
Lady Huntingdon's mode of procedure than any other, and readily 
offered to devote herself to any active service ; they, therefore, de- 
sired her to occupy part of Lady Huntingdon's house in Spa Fields, 
and be in constant residence there, to carry on all the needful cor- 
respondence, which was indeed immense, always advising with the 
trustees, and rendering an account to them, when required, of her 
procedure. To her, with Dr. Ford and Mr. Best, therefore, it was 
agreed the administration should be intrusted. 

Lady Ann now became the prominent person ; and though all La- 
dy Huntingdon's income died with her, and Lady Ann possessed a 
mere pittance, there has hitherto appeared no lack of support to the 
cause. By wise and prudent management, the places have not only 
been supported, but many new chapels, raised, and a considerable 
number of persons in addition employed ; many of whom come from 
the college at Cheshunt, managed by trustees united with the con- 
nexion of Lady Huntingdon. Indeed, in every view, Lady Ann 
was eminently qualified for her place, not only by an intimate knowl- 
edge of the manner in which her predecessor moved, but by a meas- 
ure of ability, hereditary in the family of Erskine, as well as a devo- 
tedness of heart, that made it her pleasure to undergo any labor and 
difficulties for the sake of .the work in which she was engaged. 

Those who were always consulted in emergencies, and knew the 
complicated nature of the service, will witness how greatly she strove 
to please all for their good to edification ; but none but herself knew 
the many heart-aches, and the need of patience in dealing with such 
a number of persons as managers of places, or employed in itinera- 
ting, where, as in a complicated machine, some wheel or tooth being 
out of order, rendered the uniform motion difficult to be preserved. 
To please every body was hardly possible, in her situation : that some 
might be dissatisfied, to whose wishes she could not accord ; and that 
others slighted her, who were incompetent judges of her excellen- 
ces, is not to be wondered at. That she was enabled to go on, with 
almost perfect satisfaction to her colleagues, and without the slightest 
breach for twelve years between them ; that all cordially concurred 
in one great object, and pursued it ardently ; that these are no mean 
proof of a Christian spirit, will be allowed by all who are acquainted 
with the difficulties to be encountered. 



LADY ANN AGNES ERSKINE. 283 

That during these last twelve years, when her most active life 
commenced, she was indefatigably employed in the work of God, is 
known beyond all contradiction. Those who knew her best, will 
witness the life of prayer and meditation on the word which she led. 
The very marks in her Bible will speak the deep attention she paid 
to it. Her correspondence was immense. Her room was hardly with- 
out visitors from morning to night, giving account of commissions ful- 
filled, or taking directions where to go, and what to do. It has been 
often said to her, by one of her active colleagues, that her departure 
would leave a void, which there was scarcely a prospect of again fil- 
ling with like activity and intelligence. They indeed hoped it would 
be very distant ; but her great Master ordained otherwise. 

Her conversation was always heavenly ; and, speaking of God's 
dealings with her own soul, none could express a deeper and hum- 
bler sense of her own unworthiness and nothingness. Nothing can 
speak more feelingly in this respect than the sentiment she uttered 
the last evening of her life : " The most holy are the most humble 
in their own eyes." She improved every opportunity of converse 
with her friends, especially the young, that visited her : hundreds 
are living witnesses, that if they were not the wiser and better for 
having conversed with her, they must be much to blame, and will 
have an awful account to make for abused blessings. Indeed her 
whole time and thoughts seemed to be engaged in endeavoring to fill 
her place, conscious of being highly honored in the service, and feel- 
ing it her delight as well as duty to discharge her trust, as she must 
answer to the great Shepherd and Bishop of souls. She never set 
up for a preacher, she knew her place ; but many a preacher will 
own now how much his spirit has been quickened by her example 
and converse. She was placed in a situation of some considerable 
authority ; but her directions were counsels, and her orders entreat- 
ties. She is gone to her reward, and has finished her course with 
joy ; and the work of Lady Huntingdon's Establishment was never 
better consolidated, or more apparently prosperous, than the day she 
left it ; and nothing will more powerfully speak for her than such a 
testimony. 

But this is not our home, nor our rest; it remaineth in a better 
world for those who are found faithful unto death. Lady Ann had, 
for sometime, complaints w T hich alarmed those who knew how much 
they should feel her loss ; and though she struggled with ill health, 
and hardly suffered it to interrupt her labors, yet it seemed evident 
the mortal tabernacle was failing. Her constant call to business pre- 
cluded her from exercise ; and the stooping to write, and the sed- 
entary life she led for weeks together, only moving from her room to 
the chapel, increased the dropsical tendency to which she had been 
for some time liable ; and the natural conformation of a strait chest, 
rendered her respiration often laborious, and on any quick motion 
asthmatical. Yet her spirits so quickly rose, and her conversation 



284 MEMOIRS; &C. 

became so enlivened, the apprehensions went off; and seeing it so 
frequently the case, led to hope that she might yet prolong her course. 
Those around her had often seen her apparently worse, and more 
feeble, than on the day preceding her dissolution. 

The frame of her mind indeed seemed in a preparation for an 
eternal world ; and two or three mornings before her departure, she 
came much refreshed from her room, and said to a friend with her, 
" The Lord hath met me this morning with so much sweetness of 
mind, that I seemed as if surrounded of God :" on which she added, 
with fervor, " My Lord and my God !" The. day before her death 
she took an airing in a coach, and did not seem affected by it, but 
conversed as usual. The evening of that day she was visited by a 
gentleman of her acquaintance, and spoke in her usually spirited 
manner, as if nothing ailed her ; and her health being the subject, 
she said, "I have no presentiment of death upon my mind : but she 
added, " Be that as it may, God is faithful ; and I feel unshaken con- 
fidence in him :" with many other expressions of the hope that maketh 
not ashamed. About ten she took her usual supper, an egg ; and 
soon after retiring to bed, took a composing draught, (having >had no 
good sleep for the two preceding nights,) and prayed over it, that if 
the Lord had more work for her to do, he would bless it to the pro- 
moting a good night's sleep, and restoring her strength : and speak- 
ing to her attendant, who slept in the room with her, she added, " How 
happy am I that my soul is not in hell, where I might have been !" 
And on going out of the room, Lady Ann added, as if under some 
doubt and difficulty, " The Lord will reveal himself to me to-morrow !" 
The person asked if any outward matters made her uneasy ? She re- 
plied, " No in those respcts I am perfectly easy." These were the 
last words she was heard to utter ; and lying down in her bed, appa- 
rently fell asleep. About five o'clock the attendant heard her cough 
slightly, and supposed her again composed. At six she got up ; and 
going to her bed-side, saw her reposing, her head on her hand, and 
thought her asleep ; — on a nearer approach, it was the sleep of 
death ! 

So finished her course another faithful follower of the Lamb that 
was slain ; and added one more to the list of honorable and devout 
women, whose memory is deserving of being held in everlasting re- 
membrance. She lived to the age of sixty-five years ; more than 
forty of which she had spent in the works of faith and labors of love, 



285 



LADY GLENORCHY. 



Wilhelmina Maxwell, Viscountess Glenorchy, was the 
younger of two daughters left by Dr. William Maxwell, of Preston, 
a gentleman of high respectability and large fortune in Galloway, 
Scotland; and was born at Preston, September 2nd, 1741. Dr. 
Maxwell died four months before the birth of his youngest daughter ; 
and his widow, afterwards Lady Alva, wishing to perpetuate the 
name of a husband so dear, called the fatherless child, Wilhelmina. 
She watched over the education of both daughters with maternal 
solicitude, and endeavored to preserve them from the vortex of fash- 
ionable pleasure. The eldest was married at Edinburgh, 1761, to 
William Earl of Sutherland : the youngest, who is the subject of 
these memoirs, was married at London, some months afterwards, to 
John Lord Viscount plenorchy, only son of the Earl of Breadal- 
bane. 

Lady Glenorchy was only in her twentieth year, when dazzled 
with the fascinations of grandeur, she complied with the wishes of 
her friends, who had pushed on this splendid match. With fine tal- 
ents, which had been improved by a liberal and expensive education, 
she combined an agreeable person, a temper vivacious and peculiarly 
formed for hilarity, a considerable share of wit and pleasantry, and 
every accomplishment which could render her an object of admira- 
tion in the circles of fashion. She was esteemed one of the first 
amateur musicians of the day, and had a charming voice. The 
year after her marriage, she accompanied Lord Glenorchy in a tour 
through France and Italy, where they spent about two years. On 
their return, she became involved in all the dissipation of high life, 
till her health began to suffer, and seasons of indisposition brought 
leisure for solemn reflections. Early in the summer of 1765, while 
at Taymouth castle in Perthshire, the seat of the Earl of Breadal- 
bane, she was seized with a dangerous malignant fever. On her 
convalescence, a train of serious thoughts and reasonings was produ- 
ced, followed by convictions and purposes, which ended in a com- 
plete renovation of heart and conduct. She had been taught in ear- 
ly youth that form of sound words which is contained in the Assem- 
bly's Catechism ; and now the first question and answer occurring to 
her, " What is the chief end of man ?" — "The chief end of man is 
to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever" — she was involuntarily led 
to muse on the words, and to put to herself the important questions: 
Have 1 answered the design of my being ? Have 1 glorified God ? 
Shall 1 enjoy him for ever ? On reviewing her life of thoughtless 
gayety, she could come to no other conclusion than that there was 



286 MEMOIRS OF 

no connection between such conduct, and the glorifying and enjoying 
of God, and that consequently, hitherto, she had not answered the 
chief end of her existence. The result will best be given in her 
own words, as contained in her diary. They occur in the memoran- 
dum made on her first birth day after the period at which her man- 
uscript commences. 

" September 2. — I desire this day to humble myself before God, 
and to bless him as my Creator, who called me into being at first ; 
who hath been my preserver in the midst of many dangers ; and 
who hath ever since my birth, loaded me with tender mercies and fa- 
vors. But above all, I would bless his holy name, that he hath not 
left me in the state of alienation from him in which I was by nature, 
but that he hath of his free grace and mercy, brought me out of 
darkness, and shown me the glorious light of his gospel, and caused 
me to hope for salvation through Jesus Christ. Many a time was he 
pleased to convince me of sin in my early years ; but these convic- 
tions were as the morning dew that soon passeth away. A life of 
dissipation and folly soon choked the good seed. Carnal company 
and diversions filled up the place in my soul that belonged alone to 
God. The first twenty years of my life were spent after the fashion 
of this world. Led away by vanity and youthful folly I forgot my 
Creator and Redeemer ; and if at any time I was brought by sickness 
or retirement to serious reflection, my ideas of God were confused 
and full of terror : I saw my course of life was wrong, but had not 
the power to alter it, or to resist the torrent of fashionable dissipation 
that drew me along with it. Sometimes I resolved to begin a godly 
life, — to give all I had in charity, and to live only to God ; — but I was 
then ignorant of God's righteousness, and went about to establish a 
sort of righteousness of my own, by which I hoped to be saved. 
God was therefore gracious in letting me feel how vain all my resolu- 
tions were, by allowing me to relapse again and again into a life of 
folly and vanity. My ignorance of the gospel was then so great, 
that I did not like to hear ministers preach much about Christ; I saw 
neither form nor comeliness in him, and thought it would have been 
more to the purpose, had they told us what we should do to inherit 
eternal life. My idea of Christ was, — that after I had done a great 
deal, he was to make up the rest : this was my religion ! How mar- 
vellous is thy grace, O Lord ! to pardon such a worthless creature, 
who thus depreciated thy great sufferings and meritorious death, and 
endeavored to rob thee of the glory which belongs to thee alone. 
But this was not the only way in which I tried to rob God of his glo- 
ry. I claimed great merit in the patience with which he enabled me 
to bear the severe trials and afflictions he was graciously pleased to 
send upon me, to bend my stubborn heart to his will. I thought I 
had not deserved such a lot ; — and thus I secretly rebelled against 
the Lord. About this time I got acquainted with the Hawkstone 
family, some of whom had the reputation of being Methodists. 1 



LADY GLENORCHY. 287 

liked their company and wished to be as religious as they were, 
being convinced that they were right ; but still I loved the world in 
my heart, and could not think of secluding myself from its pleasures 
altogether. I would gladly have found out some way of reconciling 
God and the world, so as to save my soul and keep some of my favo- 
rite amusements. The Lord however followed me with convictions. 
My own thoughts became very uneasy to me, the burden of my mis- 
fortunes intolerable. My health and spirits at last sunk under them 
and for some time before I left off going to public amusements, 
(where I appeared outwardly gay and cheerful,) my heart was in- 
wardly torn with anguish and inexpressible grief. The enemy now 
suggested to me, that I had no resource left, but to give myself up 
entirely to the gayeties of life, and seek consolation in whatever way 
it presented itself without paying any regard to those maxims of wis- 
dom, which hitherto had kept me within some bounds. To the best 
of my remembrance it was the very same night on which the thought 
was suggested, that I was seized with a fever which threatened to 
cut short my days ; during the course of which, the first question 
of the Assembly's Catechism was brought to my mind, — What is 
the chief end of man ? as if some one had asked it. When I con- 
sidered the answer to it, To glorify God and enjoy him forever, I 
was struck with shame and confusion. I found 1 had never sought 
to glorify God in my life, nor had any idea of what was meant by 
enjoying him forever. Death and judgment were set before me, — 
my past sins came to my remembrance. I saw no way to escape the 
punishment due unto them nor had I the least glimmering hope of 
obtaining the pardon of them, through the righteousness of another. 
In this dismal state I continued some days, viewing death as the king 
of terrors, without a friend to whom I could communicate my dis- 
tress, and altogether ignorant of Jesus the friend of sinners. At 
this time the Lord put it into the heart of Miss Hill to write to me. 
I received her letter with inexpressible joy, as I thought she might 
possibly say something that would lessen my fears of death. I im- 
mediately wrote to her of my sad situation, and begged her advice. 
Her answer set me upon searching the Scriptures, with much prayer 
and supplication, that the Lord would show me the true way of sal- 
vation, and not suffer me to be led into error. One day in particu- 
lar I took the Bible into my hands, and fell upon my knees before 
God, beseeching him with much importunity to reveal his will to me 
by his word. My mouth w r as filled with arguments, and I was en- 
abled to plead with him, that as he had made me, and given me the 
desire I then felt to know him, he would surely teach me the way in 
which I should walk, and lead me into all truth, — that he knew I 
only wished to know his will in order to do it, — that I was afraid of 
being led into error ; but as he was truth itself, his teaching must be 
infallible. I therefore committed my soul to him to be taught the 
true way of salvation. After this prayer was finished, I opened the 



288 MEMOIRS OF 

Bible then in my hands, and read part of third chapter of the Epistle 
to the Romans, where our state by nature, and the way of redemp- 
tion through a propitiatory sacrifice are clearly set forth. The eyes 
of my understanding, were opened, and I saw wisdom and beauty 
in the way of salvation by a crucified Redeemer. I saw that God 
could be just, and justify the ungodly. The Lord Jesus now ap- 
peared to me as a refuge, and I was glad to flee to him as my only 
hope. This was in the summer of 1765. Since that time, I have 
had many ups and downs in my Christian course, but have never 
lost sight of Jesus as the Savior of the world though I have often had 
my doubts of my own interest in him. I can safely say, that I would 
not give up the little knowledge I have of him, for any thing on earth. 
And although I have already suffered reproach for observing his pre- 
cepts, and shortly expect to be scoffed at by all my former acquain- 
tances, and to have my name cast out as evil, yet I rejoice in that he 
thinketh me worthy to bear his cross. And I now beseech thee, O 
Lord, to accept of my soul, body, reputation, property and influence, 
and every thing that is called mine, and do with them whatever 
seemeth good in thy sight. I desire neither ease, health nor pros- 
perity, any further than may be useful to promote thy glory. Let 
thy blessed will be done in me, and by me, from this day forth. O 
let me begin this day to live wholly to thee. Let thy grace be suffi- 
cient for me, and enable me to overcome the world. And to thee 
be ascribed the honor and glory, now and forevermore. Amen and 
amen." 

Great Sugnal in Staffordshire, where Lord and Lady Glenorchy 
sometimes resided, is at no great distance from Hawkstone ; and 
the families had by means of this nearness become acquainted with 
each other, so far as to exchange visits. At this period, several of 
the younger branches of the Hawkstone family, Mr. Richard Hill, 
the Rev. Rowland Hill, Miss Hill, and a younger sister, afterwards 
Mrs. Tudway, were decidedly pious ; and they bore and braved 
the reproach ordinarily drawn by a religious character, from the 
thoughtless, the formal and the profligate. Lady Glenorchy was not 
yet twenty four, and Miss Hill not much older, when by this corres- 
pondence, their slight intimacy was ripened into a warm and perma- 
nent friendship. Nothing could be more judicious, faithful and af- 
fectionate, than the first letter which Miss Hill wrote in answer to 
the unexpected communication from Lady Glenorchy, in which her 
once gay friend laid open the agitated and anxious state of her feel- 
ings under deep religious convictions. By the blessing of God that 
letter was attended by the happiest effect : it was the means employ- 
ed by divine grace to rescue her from despondency, and to direct 
her to " the city of refuge." From that moment, without conferr- 
ing with flesh and blood Lady Glenorchy resolutely turned her back 
on the dissipated world, and devoted herself, and all that she could 
command or influence, without reserve, to the service of her Re- 



LADY GLENORCHY. 289 

deemer, and the glory of God. The correspondence between these 
friends, which was carried on without interruption from 1765 to 
1768, was doubtless of the utmost benefit to both. None of Lady 
Glenorchy's letters, however, have been preserved : they were prob- 
ably destroyed by Miss Hill, who survived her only a few years, on 
account of their containing much delicate communication. 

Lady Glenorchy passed the winter of 1765, 6, in London and 
Bath, where every means was employed to induce her to return to 
the circles of dissipation : but neither severity nor artifice, both of 
which were put in practice, could divert her from her stedfastness. 
We find Miss Hill, in one of her letters, congratulating her on the 
resolution and fortitude she had displayed in resisting all invitations 
to places of public amusement at Bath, from a consciousness of the 
great danger she was in of being again entangled with the world. 
Lord Breadalbane, her father in law, though he did not enter into 
Lady Glenorchy's views in matters of religion, highly respected her 
integrity and talents, and entertained for her to his latest hour the 
warmest esteem. But she was exposed to much that was painful 
and trying from other quarters and was visited with some severe do- 
mestic trials. The loss of her only sister Lady Sutherland in 1766, 
must have been aggravated by the melancholy circumstances attend- 
ing it. The death of their eldest daughter had so deeply affected 
Lord and Lady Sutherland, that leaving their seat at Dunrobin, they 
repaired to Bath, to seek relief in a change of scene and the amuse- 
ments of the gay world ; but they found it not. Soon after their ar- 
rival, his Lordship was seized with a malignant fever, with which he 
struggled with for fifty four days and then expired. The first twenty 
one days and nights his Countess never left his bed side ; but at 
length overcome with fatigue and anxiety, she sunk a victim to her 
affection and fidelity, seventeen days before the death of her Lord. 
Lady Alva, her mother, uninformed of the event, was on her way to 
join her daughter at Bath, when, alighting from her carriage at an 
inn, she saw two hearses standing. On inquiring whose remains they 
contained, she was told they were those of Lord and Lady Suther- 
land, on their way to the royal chapel of Holyrood house, Edinburgh. 

The winter of 1766, 7, Lady Glenorchy passed in the country, 
at a distance from all her religious friends, deprived of almost every 
outward means of religious instruction and comfort; and exposed 
thus singly to all the odium and unkind accusation which the singu- 
larity of consistent piety never fails to provoke. Every effort ap- 
pears to have been made to reason or laugh her out of her convic- 
tions. She was charged with hypocrisy and superstition ; and she 
felt these reproaches with an acuteness which occasioned the most 
poignant distress. Her health appears at length to have been affec- 
ted by the conflict of her feelings. But her mild perseverance and 
resignation appear to have met with thei reward. She never lost 
her influence over Lord Glenorchy, and at length obtained his tacit 

37 



290 MEMOIRS OF 

acquiescence in her plans. On her return to Taymouth, in the 
summer of 1767, she frequently invited clergymen to the castle to 
conduct domestic worship and to preach on the Lord's day, after 
canonical hours, to the household and as many of the neighbors as 
chose to attend. When in Edinburgh, she formed one of a select 
religious party, who used to meet at first in each other's houses, and 
afterwards at the house of the Rev. Mr. Walker, then senior minis- 
ter of the High Church at Edinburgh, and colleague to the celebra- 
ted Dr. Blair. Among the distinguished ladies who used to assemble 
there, were the Marchioness of Lothian, the Countess of Leven 
and Northesk, Lady Banff, Lady Maxwell, Lady Ross Baillie, and 
others of rank and fortune. Mr. Walker on these occasions usually 
either expounded the Scriptures, or delivered a sermon ; and these 
meetings were continued weekly by him to the close of his life. 

It was about this period, probably at these meetings, that Lady 
Glenorchy contracted that intimacy with Lady Maxwell, which con- 
tinued unbroken to the close of her life. In the year 1770, Lady 
Glenorchy first conceived the design, in union with Lady Maxwell, 
of opening a place of worship at Edinburgh, in which ministers of 
the Gospel of every denomination that held its essential truths might 
preach. With this view she hired St. Mary's chapel, which was 
opened by the Rev. Mr. Middleton ; one of the six students, who, 
a year or two before, had been expelled from Oxford, for attending 
private religious meetings. This gentleman having received orders 
in the church of England, officiated at this time in a small Episcopal 
chapel at Dalkeith. 

It was Lady Glenorchy's intention, that Divine service should be 
performed on Sunday evenings, alternately or indifferently by Pres- 
byterian and Episcopal ministers, and that one day in the week, Mr. 
Wesley's preachers should be allowed the use of the chapel. The 
different opinions of the persons employed to officiate, however, in 
the nature of things never could coalesce. Large congregations 
were collected, and good was done to individuals ; but the design 
which at that time was quite novel in Scotland met with much disap- 
probation from the religious public. 

The ministers of the Established (Presbyterian) Church, refused 
to preach in it, on account of the admission of Mr. Wesley's preach- 
ers who were by no means generally acceptable. And at length soon 
after the Rev. Mr. De Courcy had accepted the appointment of do- 
me**.ic chaplain to Lord Glenorchy and minister of the chapel, her 
ladyship gave up all connection with the Wesleyan preachers. 

In the year 1771, Lady Glenorchy became a widow. Lord Glen- 
orchy had been seized with a fit in October of that year ; alarming 
symptoms returned in the beginning of November, and on the elev- 
enth, while Mr. De Courcy, was praying for him he expired. He 
was aware of his situation, and "his last days afforded evidence that 
the religious sentiments with which Lady Glenorchy had labored to 



LADY GLENORCHY. 291 

impress his mind, had not been lost upon him. Nothing could show 
more unequivocally his Lordship's confidence in her, and his affec- 
tionate sense of her real worth, notwithstanding any difference in 
their religious views, than the disposition which he had made of his 
property. His will gave Lady Glenorchy his whole real or landed 
estate of the Baronies of Barnton and King's Cramound, and oth- 
er lands, and all things belonging to him, in full right, constituting 
her sole executrix and legatee ; with full power to convert the whole 
into money, and to employ or bestow the whole or any part " for en- 
couraging the preaching of the gospel, and promoting the knowledge 
of the Protestant religion, erecting schools, and civilizing the inhab- 
itants in Breadalbane, Glenorchy and Netherhouse, or other parts of 
the Highlands of Scotland," in such a way and manner as she shall 
judge proper and expedient. Of the existence of these deeds, Lady 
Glenorchy was completely ignorant till they were produced after his 
Lordship's death. She was thus at the age of thirty, left her own 
mistress, with an independent fortune of between two and three 
thousand pounds a year, under circumstances which called for all 
her prudence, firmness and discretion. 

The first use which Lady Glenorchy made of the wealth, with 
which she found herself thus unexpectedly endowed, was the erec- 
tion of a chapel at Edinburgh, which she designed to be in commu- 
nion with the established church of Scotland. The first stone was 
laid in the month of August, 1772. It was, however, many years 
before her design was fully realized by the settlement of a stated 
pastor. Early in the following year it having been represented to 
her, by the minister of the parish, that the district of Strathfillan, 
was in urgent need of additional means of religious instruction, her 
ladyship lost no time in repairing the chapel there, endowing it, and 
placing it under the patronage of the Society in Scotland, for propo- 
gating Christian knowledge. The chapel still remains and continues 
to be useful. She also procured two missionary preachers of the 
Scottish establishment, under the sanction of the same society, to go 
at her own expense through the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. 

The state of her health rendering it necessary for her to pass the 
winter in a warmer climate, she spent the close of 1776, and a great 
part of the following year, in various parts of the west of England, 
where her zeal displayed itself in constant efforts to promote the 
spread of the gospel. At Exmouth, she purchased a house, and 
fitted it up as a chapel, in which a congregation of some hundreds 
was soon collected. She returned to Edinburgh, in the summer, 
but from this period, continued to spend part of every year in the 
west of England. In the year 1781, Lady Henrietta Hope, on the 
death of her father, the Earl of Hopetoun, took up her abode with 
Lady Glenorchy ; and the two friends, who were of one heart and 
mind in all things, went hand in hand in their labors of benevolence 
and works of charity. Though an invalid like herself, Lady Hen- 



292 MEMOIRS OF 

rietta's happy temper, prudence and sagacity, rendered her society 
an invaluable acquisition to her friend. In passing through Carlisle 
that year, on her way to Buxton, observing an old Presbyterian 
church shut up, Lady Glenorchy, after due inquiry, purchased and 
endowed it, taking care to provide an evangelical minister. The 
church has since been enlarged and continues to flourish. Some 
years after, being compelled to remain at Matlock over Sunday, in 
consequence of her carriage having broken down, she found the 
state of religion in that village, on inquiry, very low, and immedi- 
ately determined on the purchase of a chapel and house adjoining, 
which she ultimately accomplished. This chapel ha§ also been the 
means of much good to the neighborhood. Hope chapel, erected at 
Bristol Hot wells, was undertaken at the joint expense of Lady Glen- 
orchy and Lady Henrietta Hope : but the latter did not live to see 
her design carried into execution. She bequeathed £2500, how- 
ever for this purpose, and Lady Glenorchy gave it that name in 
memory of her friend regarding it as her most suitable monument. 
Lady Glenorchy appears also to have been instrumental in opening 
a place of worship somewhere in Devonshire. 

She also built a manufactory for the employment of the poor, 
where the education of children was strictly attended to : even the 
porter's lodges on each side of her gate were occupied as schools 
for the neighboring poor. Her pleasure-grounds were thrown open 
for the accommodation of the numbers who usually come from a dis- 
tance to attend a communion season in Scotland. In a year of scar- 
city the same grounds were planted with potatoes for the supply of 
the poor. She distributed with great judgment various sums of mon- 
ey in aid of families who were poor, yet deserving. She never en- 
couraged idleness or pride, and often remarked that it was better to 
assist people to do well in the sphere which Providence has assigned 
them, than to attempt to raise them beyond it. There was so much 
wisdom in the active application of her benevolent charities, as to 
render them both efficient and extensive. She seldom was seen in 
these works of beneficence ; her object was to do good : the grati- 
tude of those on whom she bestowed benefits, was no part of her mo- 
tive, or even of her calculation. What she did, she did unto God, 
and in obedience to his commands : her faith and hope were in 
God. She contributed largely to the public spirited Institutions es- 
tablished at Edinburgh in her day. One or two of the most useful 
she was the first to suggest the idea of, always accompanying her 
recommendation with a handsome donation in money to encourage 
the work. 

She indulged the hope of seeing a union of exertion amongst all 
Christian denominations, for sending the Gospel to the Heathen. 
How delighted would she have been with the Missionary Societies 
of London and elsewhere, had her life been spared to behold their 
extensive operations ! She sold her estate of Barnton, that she might 



LADY GLENORCHY. 293 

apply the money to a more disinterested object than her personal ac- 
commodation, and that her fortune might be expended with her life. 
" I recollect here," said Saurin in one of bis sermons, " an epitaph 
said to be engraven on the tomb of Atolus of Rheims : He export- 
ed his fortune before him into Heaven by his charities — he is gone 
thither to enjoy it." This might be truly said of lady Glenorcby. 
In her manners she discovered great dignity of character tempered 
with the meekness and benevolence of the Gospel. Her family was 
arranged with much economy, and a strict regard to moral and reli- 
gious habits. She usually supported some promising and pious young 
minister as her chaplain, which served him as an introduction to res- 
pectability in the church. With very few exceptions, all those who 
entered her family as servants, were in the process of time brought 
under religious impressions. So far it pleased the Lord to honor her 
pious endeavors to render her family one of the dwellings of the God 
of Jacob. 

She carried on an extensive correspondence with the agents of 
her charities in various places, as well as with characters in the high- 
est walks of life. The late celebrated William Pitt, whom she had 
known when a boy, was pleased with her letters, and replied in the 
most respectful terms to the counsel which she at times had given 
him, on the higher concerns of his spiritual and eternal welfare. 

Lady Glenorchy had drawn much information concerning the most 
useful subjects, from reading, from conversation, and correspondence 
with a numerous circle of worthy friends, and from acute observation 
of what passed within and around her. She entered into conversa- 
tion with much affability, and communicated ideas with uncommon 
perspicuity and readiness. The vivacity of her temper, the justness 
and sweetness of her remarks, could not fail to render her compa- 
ny acceptable to any society. But important obligations of a spirit- 
ual kind afforded her little leisure or inclination for mixed company. 
Her courage in avowing and endeavoring to promote on every occa- 
sion an attachment to the Gospel, was truly admirable. None had 
more boldness, nor more ability in introducing religious discourse, 
and directing the attention of those with whom she conversed to sub- 
jects that were spiritual and edifying. None could sit for any time 
at her table, or in her company, without hearing some truths, which 
might be profitable to their souls. In her, religion wore no morose 
or forbidding appearance. Her temper was cheerful, her conversa- 
tion and manners, though remote from the dissipation of the age, ex- 
hibited piety in a pleasing form, and conveyed the idea that, " Wis- 
dom's ways are ways of pleasantness, and that all her paths are paths 
of peace." She was indeed an enemy to the theatre, cards, and 
some other amusements, in which multitudes waste much precious 
time. She spoke from experience of their hurtfulness to our best 
interests : she thought it her duty to warn others of their danger, and 
to urge them to employ their time in a manner more suitable for im- 



294 MEMOIRS OF 

mortal creatures, more improving to themselves, and more useful to 
society. 

Those who have had opportunity to see any of her ladyship's let- 
ters or writings, know with what facility and propriety she expressed 
herself. She had those abilities as a writer, which qualified her not 
only for being an improving private correspondent, but conveying 
useful instruction to the public, though modesty restrained the free 
use of her pen for this purpose. While backward in this respect her- 
self, she exerted her influence with success in exciting her friends to 
publish religious tracts, that were adapted to the times and calculated 
for public usefulness. She often defrayed the expense of them in 
whole or in part, gave them in presents to her friends and the poor, 
and was at much pains to promote their extensive circulation and util- 
ity. At her desire and expense was composed and published a Gael- 
ic translation of "Alleine's Alarm to the Unconverted," which has 
been highly useful in the Highlands, as the original work has been to 
many in other places. 

She has been often heard to say that she considered herself as a 
steward of the gifts of God, and as accountable for the discharge of 
the important trust committed to her. Her life indeed was spent un- 
der the influence of this important truth. She considered her for- 
tune and her possessions not as her own, but God's, and to be em- 
ployed for his glory. She retrenched many personal expenses, and 
denied herself those luxuries which were likely to interfere with her 
schemes of doing good. It was to enlarge the sphere of her use- 
fulness, that she disposed of a considerable landed property, of the 
beauties of which she was abundantly sensible : and arranged her af- 
fairs for carrying on with success, after her decease, those useful de- 
signs, in the prosecution of which her life was employed. 

Her charities were very extensive, but many of them were distrib- 
uted with such secrecy, that the benefactress could hardly be traced. 
She sometimes expended hundreds of pounds in relieving indigence, 
and placing the families of those of the household of faith in situations 
of comfort and usefulness. 

Her ladyship's attention was much directed to the most useful of 
all charities, the religious education of youth. For this purpose she 
employed different teachers of acknowledged piety and abilities, by 
whom hundreds of children have been trained up in the knowledge 
of our holy religion, and fitted for useful stations in society. Ma- 
ny of them are already doing honor to their noble benefactress, and 
teachers in different departments. Some of them, we trust, are reap- 
ing the happy fruits of a pious education in the heavenly state. And 
many, very many indigent youth shall, we hope, be educated by the 
means which she has provided, for serving God and their generation 
faithfully, in this age and in future times. 

In private, the widow and the fatherless, the stranger and the dis- 
tressed, experienced her abundant beneficence. To enable her to 



LADY GLENORCHY. 295 

prosecute these schemes of benevolence, she herself carefully look- 
ed into all her affairs, and studied the strictest economy : and though 
her dress, her table, her attendants, her equipage, always correspon- 
ded to her station ; yet she denied herself the splendor which her 
fortune and rank could well have afforded and excused. 

Deeply was Lady Glenorchy sensible of the necessity of watchful- 
ness and prayer, and spent much of her time in the duties of secret 
devotion. She was careful to have her servants, duly instructed in 
religion, as well as the worship of God regularly maintained in her 
family. She failed not to give her frequent advice and assistance 
to all under her roof, as to the concerns of their souls and eternity. 
She was never absent from the devotions of the family, nor from the 
public ordinances of religion, when health permitted. Indeed from 
these, when dispensed by faithful ministers, she derived the highest 
delight, and under the increasing infirmities of a valetudinary consti- 
tution, she felt the animating hopes and consolations which religion 
inspires. 

Her breast glowed with the most fervent love to the divine Re- 
deemer of a lost world. His unparalleled condescension and grace 
were the favorite subjects of her attention and discourse. She 
thought she could never do enough to testify her gratitude to this 
most generous benefactor, and her attachment to the gospel. It was 
this principle, which excited an affectionate concern and many kind 
endeavors for her relations and friends. It was this motive, which 
influenced her to devote her substance to the purposes of piety and 
beneficence. It was this which induced her to erect the commodi- 
ous chapel in Edinburgh, where some hundred poor persons are 
properly accomodated gratis for hearing the gospel, as well as fur- 
nished with alms to alleviate the calamities of poverty, sickness, and 
declining age. It was love to Jesus and to the souls of men, which 
influenced her to build or purchase chapels in different places, and to 
make a suitable provision for the faithful administration of the ordi- 
nances of the gospel. In short, this was the grand governing impulse 
of all her godly and benevolent exertions. 

Lady Glenorchy knew the world too well, not to expect its hatred 
and reproach for a zealous and consistent profession of the gospel ; 
but her natural fortitude, and greatness of soul, and the force of reli- 
gion on her heart, rendered this of small consequence in her estima- 
tion : more than most Christians, she gloried in the cross of Christ. 
The falsehood and ill nature which for some time were propagated 
against her, she made the subject of the most refined and innocent 
pleasantry. 

We intend not, however, to hold forth Lady Glenorchy's character 
as a perfect one. She had doubtless her infirmities, as well as others. 
Her natural temper was quick, and at times she seemed to feel too 
sensibly her own importance. But her ladyship's weaknesses, which 
she readily acknowledged, were few and inconsiderable, when com- 



296 memoirs, he. 

pared with her virtues, or with the imperfections in the bulk of pro- 
fessors. The age has scarcely exhibited a character more exempla- 
ry, or a life more useful. Indeed so excellent a character, such a 
union of ability and will to do good, has seldom been seen in any age. 

Full of plans for the glory of God, and the good of men, and 
busy in the prosecution of them, this excellent lady arrived in Edin- 
burgh from Bath, where she had spent the winter, in the beginning 
of the summer 1786. Her friends observed, with concern, her de- 
clining state of health. She spoke much to them of death, and of 
her persuasion that, to her, it was near ; and uniformly expressed 
her satisfaction and joy at the prospect. Her conversation was 
nevertheless as easy, pleasant, and cheerful as ever. Religion, in 
her, was not the production of gloom, either during the progress of 
life, or in the near views of its termination. On the 14th of July, she 
was seized with the first symptoms of an alarming illness. In the 
forenoon of the following day, the curtains of her bed being drawn, a 
relative approaching as softly as possible to ascertain whether she 
slept, heard her say, " Well if this be dying it is the pleasantest thing 
imaginable." She spoke but little after this, continuing to sleep softly 
through that night and most of the following day, till, near noon of the 
next, she expired, in the forty-fourth year of her age, at the house of the 
Countess of Sutherland, George's square, Edinburgh, on Monday 
the 17th of July 1786. Of her may be said in truth, what with 
equal propriety cannot be said of every departed Christian, " her 
path was as the shining light, which shineth more and more to the 
perfect day." 

Her life we bewail as short, but her attainments and usefulness 
were much greater than many christians have reached in double her 
age. In the best sense of the phrase, Lady Glenorchy lived fast, as 
she was eager to redeem time for the most valuable purposes. She 
had a mind uncommonly active, and was fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord. This angelic woman often said, that the first question in the 
Assembly's Catechism with the answer, which had been the mean 
of exciting her serious attention, was a strong spur to her in a re- 
ligious course. 

Lady Glenorchy was interred, July 24th, agreeably to her own re- 
quest, in a vault in the centre of her chapel, Edinburgh. Next 
Lord's-day, two funeral sermons were preached in her ladyship's 
chapel to a very crowded and sorrowful audience ; the one by the 
Rev. T. S. Jones, the pastor of that church — and the other by the 
Rev. Dr. Andrew Hunter, professor of divinity in the university of 
Edinburgh. Mr. Jones chose for his subject, Luke xii. 42 — 48, 
" And the Lord said, who is that faithful and wise steward ?" Sic. 
Dr. Hunter's text was equally suitable, and was taken from PsaL xii. 
1. "Help, Lord," he. 



297 



LADY HENRIETTA HOPE. 



La.dy Henrietta Hope, whose name is mentioned in the preceding 
memoir, was the third daughter of John, Earl of Hopetoun. 

There can hardly be a stronger, and certainly not so amiable a 
criterion of a person's worth and good qualities, as his being the 
object of general affection and esteem in the particular place of his 
habitual residence. Estimating by this rule, Lady Henrietta Hope 
possessed indisputable pretensions to the most favorable representa- 
tion ; for she was universally beloved by all around her where she 
resided. This affection from superiors and inferiors, is a circum- 
stance always honorable, and rendered peculiarly so in some situ- 
ations. 

Lady Henrietta Hope was formed for eminence. Possessed of 
a strong, clear understanding, and sound judgment ; much improved 
by reading, conversation, deep thought and observation, she gave 
early presages of proving highly useful and ornamental to society, if 
permitted to see those years necessary for maturing the powers of 
the human mindl and the great expectations formed by her friends 
were not disappointed. She possessed the nicest moral sense, a 
heart for friendship, a keen sensibility of human pain, with an un- 
ceasing desire to relieve or at least alleviate in every possible way, 
the numerous distresses of her fellow creatures. 

Yet, though favored with a mind thus enriched with every virtue 
of the moral character, united to the most amiable disposition and 
engaging manners, it was not till her twenty fifth year that Lady Hen- 
rietta Hope began to inquire about the great realities of eternity. 
At that time an impression concerning the one thing needful was 
made upon her mind, which never afterwards was effaced. Her 
own words upon this subject, at that memorable period are, " O to 
grace how great a debtor ! Called at first out of nothing : and after 
twenty five years obstinacy and rebellion, awakened from a state of 
sin and misery, and death, and brought to the light of the glorious 
Gospel, to the knowledge of Jesus Christ revealed therein, and 
(though by slow degrees, through various mazes, manifold tempta- 
tions, and sundry trials, may I not, in all humility say) to good 
hopes through grace : how shall I praise the riches of that grace 
which has abounded towards me !" 

Being thus brought from darkness to light, and her mind relieved 
from anxiety respecting her own state, the language of her heart was 
that of the royal Psalmist : " What shall I render unto the Lord ?" 
Believing it her duty, and viewing it as her privilege, she made an 
entire dedication of herself, with all she had, or ever should stand 

38 



298 MEMOIRS OF 

possessed of, to that great and gracious Being, who had dealt so 
bountifully with her. Nor did she ever breathe a wish to recall the 
solemn deed : no, the residue of her life, by its uniform tenor, pro- 
ved the sacrifice not only sincere, but universal, in so far as her situ- 
ation would permit. 

The deepest humility marked Lady Henrietta Hope's character, 
almost to excess. From principle she courted the shade ; though 
her mind, formed by natural and acquired abilities, fitted her for 
shining as a bright example of the transforming power of sovereign 
grace, united to every requisite for filling the most useful station in 
the Christian line. From this excess of the most amiable virtue, the 
public eye discovered but a few of the numerous instances of her 
generous and judicious exertions for the cause of religion in particu- 
lar, and the general good of her fellow creatures at large, as she usu- 
ally acted through the medium of others, who she believed (from 
overrating their abilities as she depreciated her own) were better 
qualified to appear on the stage of life, as the witnesses of Jesus ; 
but, though unknown to many, they are ail noted in the divine records 
and will, ere long, be read aloud before the assembled world. 

Suffice to say, Lady Henrietta Hope, on many occasions, united 
with others, and gave largely both of judicious counsel and pecuniary 
aid, towards erecting chapels, building schools, and endowing them, 
together with extensive (both occasional and stated) provision for the 
poor and distressed of every description ; while she used her influ- 
ence with those in the higher walks of life, to gain them over to the 
interests of vital, experimental religion : for which she was well qual- 
ified, not only as holding forth by example the word of life in the 
most amiable light, but also from a thorough acquaintance with the 
doctrinal and preceptive parts of the holy religion she professed, to- 
gether with no inconsiderable degree of elocution and command of 
her pen. Availing herself of these advantages with a single eye to 
the glory of God, and with that extreme modesty and winning soft- 
ness peculiar to her, she often carried captive the minds of those she 
addressed, at least so far as to gain approbation. Nothing short of 
the interposition of a divine agent can produce in the human mind 
that belief of the important truths of the Gospel, termed by the apos- 
tle, " the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not 
seen." Yet the divine blessing often renders effectual the feeble at- 
tempts of Christians to effect this great purpose ; and there is rea- 
son to believe this eminent servant of God did not labor in vain. If 
to what is already said of this amiable lady, we add, her unwearied 
attention to every relative duty, her faithful discharge of every trust 
reposed in her, we must say, the portrait is pleasing, the character 
exemplary. 

But as no degree of moral excellence, or strength of grace, can 
procure the Christian an exemption from trials in this probationary 
state. Lady Henrietta Hope 3 though possessed of the favor of her 



LADY HENRIETTA HOPE. 299 

God, the esteem of the world, the affection of her relations, and 
the love of her Christian friends, yet suffered much in the last years 
of her life, from a very delicate frame, which gave rise to many dis- 
tressing complaints; all which she endured with that calm fortitude 
and unbroken resignation, that nothing but true religion can inspire. 

In autumn 1785, Lady Henrietta Hope went to Bristol Hot wells, 
where, after every medical exertion proving ineffectual, and the med- 
dicinal virtue of the wells yielding no relief, she meekly rendered up 
her ransomed soul into the hands of her gracious God, who called 
her home to receive her great reward, eternal life, the free gift of 
the most High, upon the 1st of January 1786, more full of honor 
than of days ; leaving behind her a fair copy of every thing praise- 
worthy, and of good report. A considerable part of her fortune 
she left for pious and charitable purposes. 

Of humble spirit, though of taste refin'd, 

Her feelings tender, though her will resign'd ; 

Call'd by affliction, every grace to prove, 

In patience perfect, and complete in love ; 

O'er death victorious, through her Savior's might, 

She reigns triumphant with the saints in light. 



Having thus made as copious a selection of the Lives of the pious 
women of Britain as our limits will admit, we here close the record 
of English female worth, and turn to the pages which honor our 
country's name, by the recorded virtues of American women. Un- 
graced by titles, and seldom privileged with the immense wealth of 
the high-born ladies of Britain, female Christians on this side of the 
Atlantic have not been enabled to make so grand a display in the 
way of charities, but they have not been wanting in the active and 
earnest labors of Christian love. The testimony of many of our 
great and good men, who have traced the first source of their emin- 
ence in a mother's gentle nurture, tells how and where their influence 
has been felt. And the green graves, that hallow the shores and isles 
of Eastern India and the Pacific, or bloom amid our western wilder- 
ness, show that high devotion and deep feeling have sent them forth 
in labors of love, as far as man's mightier soul has led the way, in 
the fulfilment of the last charge and promise of the ascending Re- 
deemer. 



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301 



>IRS. SARAH EDWARDS 

WIFE OF THE ELDER PRESIDENT EDWARDS. 



This lady, illustrious by her parentage, and by her connection 
with the most renowned theologian of the last century, honored too- 
by the eminence of many of her numerous descendents, owes her 
rank among the good and noble of her sex, however, not merely to 
the circumstances of birth and relation. In the laborious discharge 
of the important, unpretending duties of a wife and mother, she had 
a merit that was all her own, and in the high sphere of Christian 
virtue, she shone with no borrowed light. Gifted by nature with 
more than common mental powers, she might claim a place, also, 
among those whose example has demonstrated the high faculties and 
susceptibilities of the female mind. This brief record of her life 
will show, that though she was not of the number of those females 
who have attained the glory of a rank on the lists of science and 
literature, yet to her belongs a noble though modest fame; — "Her 
children rise up and call her blessed ; her husband also, and he prais- 
eth her." 

She was born at New Haven, on the 9th of January, 1710. Her 
paternal grandfather, John Pierpont, who came from England and 
resided in Roxbury, Massachusetts, was a younger branch of the 
noble family of the dukes of Kingston. Her father, the Rev. James 
Pierpont, was an eminent, pious and useful minister, at New Haven. 
He married Mary, the daughter of the Rev. Samuel Hooker, of Far- 
mington, who was the son of the Rev. Thomas Hooker, of Hartford, 
familiarly denominated "the father of the Connecticut churches," and 
well known, in the churches of England, for his distinguished talents 
and most ardent piety. Mr. Pierpont was one of the principal 
founders, and one of the Trustees of Yale College : and, to help 
forward the infant seminary, read lectures to the students, for some 
considerable time, as Professor of Moral Philosophy. The Plat- 
form of the Connecticut churches, established at Saybrook, in 1708, 
is ascribed to his pen. Miss Pierpont was a young lady of un- 
common beauty. Not only is this the language of tradition ; but 
Dr. Hopkins, who first saw her when the mother of seven children, 
says she was more than ordinarily beautiful ; and her portrait, taken 
by a respectable English painter,* while it presents a form and fea- 



■ The Rev. Dr Erskine, the warm friend and the correspondent of Mr. Edwards, 
being desirous of procuring a correct portrait, both of him and his wife, and hearing 
that Smibert a distinguished painter was in Boston, forwarded to his agent in that town 



302 MEMOIRS OF 

tures not often rivalled, exhibits also that peculiar loveliness of ex- 
pression, which is the combined result of intelligence, cheerfulness 
and benevolence. The native powers of her mind, were of a supe- 
rior order ; and her parents being in easy circumstances, and of lib- 
eral views, provided for their children all the advantages of an enlight- 
ened and polished education. In her manners she was gentle and 
courteous, amiable in her behavior, and the law of kindness appear- 
ed to govern all her conversation and conduct. She was also a rare 
example of early piety ; having exhibited the life and power of reli- 
gion, and that in a remarkable manner, when only five years of age;* 
and having also confirmed the hopes which her friends then cherish- 
ed, by the uniform and increasing excellence of her character, in 
childhood and youth. So warm and animated were her religious 
feelings, in every period of life, that they might perhaps have been 
regarded as enthusiastic, had they not been under the control of 
true delicacy and sound discretion. 

She was married at New Haven, when only in the eighteenth year 
of her age, to the Rev. Jonathan Edwards, then minister of the Con- 
gregational church in Northampton, Massachusetts. Mr. Edwards 
had known her several years before their marriage, and from the 
following passage, written on a blank leaf, in 1723, it is obvious, that 
even then her uncommon piety, at least, had arrested his attention. 
" They say there is a young lady in [New Haven] who is beloved 
of that Great Being, who made and rules the world, and that there 
are certain seasons in which this Great Being, in some way or other 
invisible, comes to her and fills her mind with exceeding sweet de- 
light, and that she hardly cares for any thing, except to meditate on 
him — that she expects after a while to be received up where he is, 
to be raised up out of the world and caught up into heaven ; being 
assured that he loves her too well to let her remain at a distance from 
him always. There she is to dwell with him, and to be ravished 
with his love and delight forever. Therefore, if you present all the 
world before her, with the richest of its treasures, she disregards it 
and cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or affliction. She 
has a strange sweetness in her mind, and singular purity in her affec- 
tions ; is most just and conscientious in all her conduct ; and you 
could not persuade her to do any thing wrong or sinful, if you would 
give her all the world, lest she should offend this Great Being. She 
is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness and universal benevolence of 



the sum requisite, not only for the portraits, but for the expenses of the journey. 
They were taken in 1740 ; and after the death of Dr. Erskine, were very kindly 
transmitted by his executor, to Dr. Edwards. Smibert, the painter of these portraits 
was an Italian by birth, extensively patronised in England, and was eminent in his 
art, as many fine paintings by him will show. The fine family picture of Bishop 
Berkeley in the Yale College collection is by him. 

* Hopkins' Life of Edwards. Dr. H. resided in the family a considerable time. 



MRS. SARAH EDWARD b. 303 

mind ; especially after this Great God has manifested himself to her 
mind. She will sometimes go about from place to place, singing 
sweetly; and seems to be always full of joy and pleasure; and no 
one knows for what. She loves to be alone, walking in the fields 
and groves, and seems to have some one invisible always conversing 
with her." After due allowance is made for animation of feeling, 
the reader will be convinced, that such a testimony, concerning a 
young lady of thirteen, could not have been given, by so competent 
a judge, had there not been something unusual in the purity and ele- 
vation of her mind, and the excellence of her life. Few persons, 
we are convinced, no older than she was at the time of her marriage, 
have made equal progress in holiness ; and rare, very rare, is the 
instance, in which such a connection results in a purer or more unin- 
terrupted happiness. It was a union, founded on high personal es- 
teem, and on a mutual affection, which continnally grew, and ripened, 
and mellowed for the time of harvest. The station, which she was 
called to till at this early age, is one of great delicacy, as well as res- 
ponsibility, and is attended with many difficulties. She entered on 
the performance of the various duties to her family and the people, 
to which it summoned her, with a firm reliance on the guidance and 
support of God ; and perhaps no stronger evidence can be given of 
her substantial worth, than that from the first she discharged them in 
such a manner, as to secure the high and increasing approbation of 
all who knew her. 

In the midst of the remarkable and complicated labors to which 
Mr. Edwards was called, he found at home one, who was in every 
sense a help meet for him ; one who made their common dwelling 
the abode of order and neatness, of peace and comfort, of harmony 
and love, to all its inmates, and of kindness and hospitality to the 
friend, the visitant and the stranger. " While she uniformly paid a 
becoming deference to her husband, and treated him with entire res- 
pect, she spared no pains in conforming to his inclinations, and ren- 
dering every thing in the family agreeable and pleasant : accounting 
it her greatest glory, and that wherein she could best serve God and 
her generation, to be the means, in this way, of promoting his use- 
fulness and happiness. As he was of a weakly, infirm constitution, 
and was necessarily peculiarly exact in his diet, she was a tender 
nurse to him, cheerfully attending upon him at all times, and in all 
things ministering to his comfort. And no person of discernment 
could be conversant in the family, without observing, and admiring, 
the perfect harmony, and mutual love and esteem, that subsisted be- 
tween them. At the same time, when she herself labored under 
bodily disorders and pains, which was not unfrequently the case, in- 
stead of troubling those around her with her complaints, and wearing 
a sour or dejected countenance, as if out of humor with every body, 
and every thing around her, because she was disregarded and neg- 
lected ; she was accustomed to bear up under them, not only with 
patience, but with cheerfulness and good humor." 



304 MEMOIRS OF 

Devoted as Mr. Edwards was to study, and to the duties of his 
profession, it was necessary for him at all times, to be relieved from 
attention to all secular concerns ; and it was a most happy circum- 
stance, that he could trust every thing of this nature to the care of 
Mrs. Edwards, with entire safety and with undoubting confidence. 
" She was a most judicious and faithful mistress of a family, habitu- 
ally industrious, a sound economist, managing her household affairs 
with diligence and discretion. She was conscientiously careful, that 
nothing should be wasted and lost ; and often, when she herself took 
care to save any thing of trifling value, or directed her children or 
others to do so, or when she saw them waste any thing, she would 
repeat the words of our Savior — "that nothing be lost;" which 
words, she said she often thought of, as containing a maxim worth 
remembering, especially when considered as the reason alleged by 
Christ, why his disciples should gather up the fragments of that 
bread, which he had just before created with a word. She took al- 
most the whole direction of the temporal affairs of the family, with- 
out doors and within, managing them with great wisdom and pru- 
dence, as well as cheerfulness ; and in this, was particularly suited 
to the disposition, as well as the habits and necessities, of her hus- 
band, who chose to have no care, if possible, of any worldly busi- 
ness." 

But there are other duties, of a still more tender and difficult na- 
ture, which none but a parent can adequately perform ; and it was 
an unspeakable privilege to Mr. Edwards, now surrounded by a 
young and growing family, that when his duties to his people, espe- 
cially in times of revival, necessarily occupied his whole attention, 
he could safely commit his children to the wisdom and piety, the 
love and faithfulness, of their mother. Her views of the responsi- 
bility of parents, were large and comprehensive. " She thought 
that, as a parent, she had great and important duties to do towards 
her children, before they were capable of government and instruc- 
tion. For them, she constantly and earnestly prayed, and bore them 
on her heart before God, in all her secret and most solemn addresses 
to him ; and that, even before they were born. The prospect of her 
becoming the mother of a rational immortal creature, which came into 
existence in an undone and infinitely dreadful state, was sufficient to 
lead her to bow before God daily, for his blessing on it — even re- 
demption and eternal life by Jesus Christ. So that, through all the 
pain, labor and sorrow, which attended her being the mother of chil- 
dren, she was in travail for them, that they might be born of God." 

She regularly prayed with her children, from a very early period, 
and, as there is the best reason to believe, with great earnestness and 
importunity. Being thoroughly sensible that, in many respects, the 
chief care of forming children by government and instruction, natu- 
rally lies on mothers, as they are most with their children, at an age 
when they commonly receive impressions that are permanent, and 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 



have great influence jki forming the character for life, she was very 
careful to do her part in this important business. When she foresaw, 
or met with, any special difficulty in this matter, she was wont to 
apply to her husband, for advice and assistance; and on such occa- 
sions, they would both attend to it, as a matter of the utmost impor- 
tance. She had an excellent way of governing her children ; she 
knew how to make them regard and obey her cheerfully, without 
loud angry words, much less heavy blows. She seldom punished 
them; and in speaking to them, used gentle and pleasant words. If 
any correction was necessary, she did not administer it in a passion ; 
and when she had occasion to reprove and rebuke, she would do it 
in few words, without warmth and noise, and with all calmness and 
gentleness of mind. In her directions and reproofs, in matters of 
importance, she would address herself to the reason of her children, 
that they might not only know her inclination and will, but at the 
same time be convinced of the reasonableness of it. She had need 
to speak but once ; she was cheerfully obeyed : murmuring and an- 
swering again were not known among them. In their manners, they 
were uncommonly respectful to their parents. When their parents 
came into the room, they all rose instinctively from their seats, and 
never resumed them until their parents were seated ; and when 
either parent was speaking, no matter with whom they had been 
conversing, they were all immediately silent and attentive. The 
kind and gentle treatment they received from their mother, while 
she strictly and punctiliously maintained her parental authority, seem- 
ed naturally to beget and promote a filial respect and affection, and 
to lead them to a mild tender treatment of each other. Quarrelling 
and contention, which too frequently take place among children, were 
in her family wholly unknown. She carefully observed the first ap- 
pearance of resentment and ill will in her young children, towards 
any person whatever, and did not connive at it, as many who have 
the care of children do, but was careful to show her displeasure, and 
suppress it to the utmost ; yet, not by angry, wrathful words, which 
often provoke children to wrath, and stir up their irascible passions, 
rather than abate them. Her system of discipline was begun at a 
very early age, and it was her rule, to resist the first, as well as every 
subsequent exhibition of temper or disobedience in the child, how- 
ever young, until its will was brought into submission to the will of 
its parents : wisely reflecting, that until a child will obey his parents^ 
he can never be brought to obey God. 

Fond as Mr. Edwards was of welcoming the friend and the stran- 
ger, and much as his house was a favorite place of resort, to gentle- 
men both of the clergy and laity ; it was absolutely necessary, at all 
times, and peculiarly so in seasons of religious attention, that some 
one, well knowing how to perform the rites of hospitality, and to pay 
all the civilities and charities of life, should relieve him from these 
attentions, during those hours which were consecrated to his pro- 

39 



306 MEMOIRS OF 

fessional duties; and here also, he could most advantageously avail 
himself of the assistance of Mrs. Edwards. Educated in the midst 
of polished life, familiar from childhood with the rules of decorum 
and good breeding, affable and easy in her manners, and governed 
by the feelings of liberality and benevolence, she was remarkable 
for her kindness to her friends, and to the visitants who resorted to 
Mr. Edwards ; sparing no pains to make them welcome, and to pro- 
vide for their convenience and comfort. She was also peculiarly 
kind to strangers, who came to her house. By her sweet and win- 
ning manners, and ready conversation, she soon became acquainted 
with them, and brought them to feel acquainted with herself; and 
showed such concern for their comfort, and so kindly offered what 
she thought they needed, that while her friendly attentions discovered 
at once that she knew the feelings of a stranger, they also made their 
way directly to his heart, and gaining his confidence, led him imme- 
diately to feel as if he were at home, in the midst of near and affec- 
tionate friends. 

" She made it her rule, to speak well of all, so far as she could 
with truth and justice to herself and others. She was not wont to 
dwell with delight on the imperfections and failings of any ; and 
when she heard persons speaking ill of others, she would say what 
she thought she could, with truth and justice, in their excuse, or 
divert the obloquy, by mentioning those things that were commend- 
able in them. Thus she was tender of every one's character, even 
of those who injured and spoke evil of her ; and carefully guard- 
ed against the too common vice, of evil speaking and backbiting. 
She could hear injuries and reproach, with great calmness, without 
any disposition to render evil for evil ; but, on the contrary, was 
ready to pity and forgive those, who appeared to be her enemies." 
This course of conduct, steadily pursued, secured, in an unusual 
degree, the affection and confidence of those who knew her. 

She proved also, an invaluable auxiliary to Mr. Edwards, in the 
duties of his profession, not only by her excellent example, but by 
her active efforts in doing good. "She was," says Dr. Hopkins, 
" eminent for her piety, and for experimental religion. Religious 
conversation was her delight ; and, as far as propriety permitted, 
she promoted it in all companies. Her religious conversation show- 
ed at once, her clear comprehension of spiritual and divine things, 
and the deep impression which they had made upon her mind." It 
was not merely conversation about religion — about its truths, or du- 
ties, or its actual state — its doctrines or triumphs — or the character 
and conduct of its friends and ministers : it was religion itself; — 
that supreme love to God, to his kingdom and his glory, which, 
abounding in the heart, flows forth spontaneously, in the daily con- 
versation and the daily life. 

The friends of vital Christianity, those who delighted in its great 
and essential truths, who showed its practical influence on their 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 307 

lives, and who were most engaged in promoting its prosperity, were 
her chosen friends and intimates. With such persons, she would 
converse freely and confidentially, telling them of the exercises of 
her own heart, and the happiness she had experienced in a life of 
religion, for their encouragement in the christian course. Her 
mind appeared to attend to spiritual and divine things constantly, on 
all occasions, and in every condition and business of life. Secret 
prayer was her uniform practice, and appeared to be the source of 
daily enjoyment. She was a constant attendant on public worship, 
and always exhibited the deepest solemnity and reverence in the 
house of God. She always prized highly the privilege of social 
worship, not only in the family, but in the private meetings of chris- 
tians. Such meetings, on the part of females only, for prayer and 
religious conversation, have at times been objected to, as, both in 
their nature and results, inconsistent with the true delicacy of the 
sex. Her own judgment, formed deliberately, and in coincidence 
with that of her husband, was in favor of these meetings ; and ac- 
cordingly, she regularly encouraged and promoted them, during the 
remarkable revival of religion in 1734 and 1735, as well as at other 
times ; attending on them herself, and not declining to take her 
proper share in the performance of their various duties. In this 
way, she exerted an important influence among her own sex, and 
over the young : an influence always salutary in promoting union, 
ardor and spiritual-mindedness, but especially powerful, in seasons 
of uncommon attention to religion. 

One circumstance, which served essentially to extend and increase 
this influence, was the fact, that her religion had nothing gloomy or 
forbidding in its character. Unusual as it was in degree, it was em- 
inently the religion of joy. On the testimony of Mr. Edwards, it 
possessed this character, even when she was a little child of about 
five or six years of age, as well as customarily in after life. At the 
commencement of this remarkable work of grace, she appears to 
have dedicated herself anew to God, with more entire devotion of 
heart to his service and glory, than she had ever been conscious of 
before ; and during its progress, as well as afterwards, she experi- 
enced a degree of religious enjoyment, not previously known to her- 
self, and not often vouchsafed to others. 

Near the close of the year 1738, according to the testimony of 
Mr. Edwards, she was led, under an uncommon discovery of God's 
excellency, and in an high exercise of love to God, and of rest and 
joy in him, to make a new and most solemn dedication of herself to 
his service and glory, an entire renunciation of the world, and a re- 
signation of all to God. After this, she had often such views of the 
glory of the Divine perfections, and of Christ's excellencies, and at 
times, for hours together, without any interruption, that she was over- 
whelmed, and as it were swallowed up, in the light and joy of the 
Jove of God. In the summer of 1 740, after a new and more perfect 



308 MEMOIRS OF 

resignation of herself to God, with yet greater fervency, her views of 
the glory of God, and of the excellency of Christ, became still more 
clear and transporting ; and in the following winter, after a similar, 
but more perfect resignation of herself, and acceptance of God as the 
only portion and happiness of her soul, God appeared to vouchsafe 
to her, for a long period, a degree of spiritual light and enjoyment, 
which seemed to be, in reality, an anticipation of the joys of the heav- 
enly world. There was so much that was unusual and striking in 
this state of mind, that her husband requested her to draw up an ex- 
act statement of it ; which, having been preserved, is now presented 
to the reader. 

"On Tuesday night, Jan. 19, 1742," observes Mrs. Edwards, 
u I felt very uneasy and unhappy, at my being so low in grace. I 
thought I very much needed help from God, and found a spirit of 
earnestness to seek help of him, that I might have more holiness. 
When I had for a time been earnestly wrestling with God for it, I felt 
within myself great quietness of spirit, unusual submission to God, 
and willingness to wait upon him, with respect to the time and man- 
ner in which he should help me, and wished that he should take his 
own time, and his own way, to do it. 

" The next morning, I found a degree of uneasiness in my mind, 
at Mr. Edwards's suggesting, that he thought I had failed in some 
measure in point of prudence, in some conversation I had with Mr. 
Williams of Hadley, the day before. I found, that it seemed to be- 
reave me of the quietness and calm of my mind, in any respect not 
to have the good opinion of my husband. This, I much disliked 
in myself, as arguing a want of a sufficient rest in God, and felt a 
disposition to fight against it, and look to God for his help, that I 
might have a more full and entire rest in him, independent of all oth- 
er things. I continued in this frame, from early in the morning until 
about 10 o'clock, at which time the Rev. Mr. Reynolds went to pray- 
er in the family. 

" I had before this, so entirely given myself up to God, and re- 
signed up every thing into his hands, that I had, for a long time, felt 
myself quite alone in the world ; so that the peace and calm of my 
mind, and my rest in God, as my only and all sufficient happiness, 
seemed sensibly above the reach of disturbance from any thing but 
these two : 1st. My own good name and fair reputation among men, 
and especially the esteem and just treatment of the people of this 
town ; 2dly. And more especially, the esteem, and love and kind 
treatment of my husband. At times, indeed, I had seemed to be 
considerably elevated above the influence of even these things ; yet 
I had not found my calm, and peace and rest in God so sensibly, 
fully and constantly, above the reach of distnrbance from them, un- 
til now. 

" While Mr. Reynolds was at prayer in the family this morning, f 
felt an earnest desire that, in calling on God, he should say, Father, 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 300 

or that he should address the Almighty under that appellation : on 
which the thought turned in my mind — Why can I say, Father*! — 
Can I now at this time, with the confidence of a child, and without 
the least misgiving of heart, call God my father ? — This brought to 
my mind, two lines of Mr. Erskine's Sonnet : 

" I see him lay his vengeance by, 
" And smile in Jesus' face." 

" I was thus deeply sensible, that my sins did loudly call for ven- 
geance ; but I then by faith saw God " lay his vengeance by, and 
smile in Jesus' face." It appeared to be real and certain that he did 
so. I had not the least doubt, that he then sweetly smiled upon me, 
with the look of forgiveness and love, having laid aside all his dis- 
pleasure towards me, for Jesus' sake ; which made me feel very 
weak, and somewhat faint. 

"In consequence of this, I felt a strong desire to be alone with 
God, to go to him, without having any one to interrupt the silent and 
soft communion, which I earnestly desired between God and my own 
soul ; and accordingly withdrew to my chamber. It should have 
been mentioned that, before I retired, while Mr. Reynolds was pray- 
ing, these words, in Rom. viii. 34, came into my mind " Who is 
he that condemneth; It is Christ that died, yea rather that is risen 
again, who is even at the right hand of God, who also maketh inter- 
cession for us ;" as well as the following words, " Who shall sepa- 
rate us from the love of Christ," etc. ; which occasioned great sweet- 
ness and delight in my soul. But when I was alone, the words came 
to my mind with far greater power and sweetness; upon which I 
took the Bible, and read the words to the end of the chapter, when 
they were impressed on my heart with vastly greater power and 
sweetness still. They appeared to me with undoubted certainty as 
the words of God, and as words which God did pronounce concern- 
ing me. I had no more doubt of it, than I had of my being. I 
seemed as it were to hear the great God proclaiming thus to the 
world concerning me ; " Who shall lay any thing to thy charge" 
etc. ; and had it strongly impressed on me, how impossible it was for 
any thing in heaven or earth, in this world or the future, ever to sep- 
arate me from the love of God which was in Christ Jesus. 1 can- 
not find language to express, how certain this appeared — the ever- 
lasting mountains and hills were but shadows to it. My safety, and 
happiness, and eternal enjoyment of God's immutable love, seemed 
as durable and unchangeable as God himself. Melted and overcome 
by the sweetness of this assurance, I fell into a great flow of tears, 
and could not forbear weeping aloud. It appeared certain to me 
that God was my Father, and Christ my Lord and Savior, that he 
was mine and I his. Under a delightful sense of the immediate pres- 
ence and love of God, these words seemed to come over and over 
in my mind, " My God, my all ; my God, my all." The presence 



310 MEMOIRS OF 

of God was so near, and so real, that I seemed scarcely conscious of 
any thing else. God the Father, and the Lord Jesus Christ, seem- 
ed as distinct persons, both manifesting their inconceivable loveliness, 
and mildness, and gentleness, and their great and immutable love to 
me. I seemed to be taken under the care and charge of my God 
and Savior, in an inexpressibly endearing manner ; and Christ ap- 
peared to me as a mighty Savior, under the character of the Lion 
of the Tribe of Judah, taking my heart, with all its corruptions, un- 
der his care, and putting it at his feet. In all things, which concern- 
ed me, I felt myself safe under the protection of the Father and the 
Savior ; who appeared with supreme kindness to keep a record of 
every thing that I did, and of every thing that was done to me, purely 
for my good. 

"The peace and happiness, which I hereupon felt, was altogeth- 
er inexpressible. It seemed to be that which came from heaven ; 
to be eternal and unchangeable. I seemed to be lifted above earth 
and hell, out of the reach of every thing here below, so that I could 
look on all the rage and enmity of men or devils, with a kind of ho- 
ly indifference, and an undisturbed tranquillity. At the same time, I 
felt compassion and love for all mankind, and a deep abasement of 
soul, under a sense of my own unworthiness. I thought of the min- 
isters who were in the house, and felt willing to undergo any labor 
and self-denial, if they would but come to the help of the Lord. I 
also felt myself more perfectly weaned from all things here below, 
than ever before. The whole world, with all its enjoyments, and all 
its troubles, seemed to be nothing : — My God was my all, my only 
portion. No possible suffering appeared to be worth regarding : all 
persecutions and torments were a mere nothing. I seemed to dwell 
on high, and the place of defence to be the munition of rocks. 

"After some time, the two evils mentioned above, as those which 
I should have been least able to bear, came to my mind — the ill treat- 
ment of the town, and the ill will of my husband ; but now I was car- 
ried exceedingly above even such things as these, and I could feel 
that, if I were exposed to them both, they would seem comparative- 
ly nothing. There was then a deep snow on the ground, and I could 
think of being driven from my home into the cold and snow, of being 
chased from the town with the utmost contempt and malice, and of 
being left to perish with the cold, as cast out by all the world, with 
perfect calmness and serenity. It appeared to me, that it would not 
move me, or in the least disturb the inexpressible happiness and peace 
of my soul. My mind seemed as much above all such things, as the 
sun is above the earth. 

" I continued in a very sweet and lively sense of divine things, day 
and night, sleeping and waking, until Saturday, Jan. 23. On Satur- 
day morning, I had a most solemn and deep impression on my mind 
of the eye of God as fixed upon me, to observe what improvement 
I made of those spiritual communications I had received from him ; 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 311 

as well as of the respect shown Mr. Edwards, who had then been sent 
for to preach at Leicester. I was sensible that I was sinful enough 
to bestow it on my pride, or on my sloth, which seemed* exceedingly 
dreadful to me. At night, my soul seemed to be filled with an inex- 
pressibly sweet and pure love to God, and to the children of God ; 
with a refreshing consolation and solace of soul, which made me mh 
lin°* to lie on the earth, at the feet of the servants of God, to declare 
his gracious dealings with me, and breathe forth before them my love, 
and gratitude, and praise. 

" The next day, which was the Sabbath, I enjoyed a sweet, and 
lively and assured sense of God's infinite grace, and favor, and love 
to me, in taking me out of the depths of hell, and exalting me to the 
heavenly glory, and the dignity of a royal priesthood. 

" On Monday night, Mr. Edwards, being gone that day to Lei- 
cester, I heard that Mr. Buell, was coming to this town, and from 
what I had heard of him, and of his success, I had strong hopes 
that there would be great effects from his labors here. At the same 
time, I had a deep and affecting impression, that the eye of God was 
ever upon my heart, and that it greatly concerned me to watch my 
heart, and see to it that I was perfectly resigned to God, with res- 
pect to the instruments he should make use of to revive religion in 
this town, and be entirely willing, if it was God's pleasure, that he 
should make use of Mr. Buell ; and also that other christians should 
appear to excel me in christian experience, and in the benefit they 
should derive from ministers. I was conscious, that it would be ex- 
ceedingly provoking to God if I should not be thus resigned, and 
earnestly endeavored to watch my heart, that no feelings of a con- 
trary nature might arise ; and was enabled, as I thought to exercise 
full resignation, and acquiescence in God's pleasure, as to these 
things. I was sensible what great cause I had to bless God, for the 
use he had made of Mr. Edwards hitherto ; but thought, if he never 
blessed his labors any more, and should greatly bless the labors of 
other ministers, I could entirely acquiesce in his will. It appeared 
to me meet and proper, that God should employ babes and sucklings 
to advance his kingdom. When I thought of these things, it was 
my instinctive feeling to say, " Amen, Lord Jesus ! Amen Lord Je- 
sus !" This seemed to be the sweet and instinctive language of my 
soul. 

11 On Tuesday, I remained in a sweet and lively exercise of this 
resignation, and love to, and rest in God, seeming to be in my heart 
from day to day, far above the reach of every thing here below. 
On Tuesday night, especially the latter part of it, I felt a great ear- 
nestness of soul and engagedness in seeking God for the town, that 
religion might now revive, and that God would bless Mr. Buell to 
that end. God seemed to be very near to me while I was thusstri- 
ving with him for these things, and I had a strong hope that what I 
sought of him would be granted. There seemed naturally and un- 



312 MEMOIRS OF 

avoidably to arise in my mind an assurance, that now God would do 
great things for Northampton. 

On Wednesday morning I heard that Mr. Buell, arrived the night 
before at Mr. Phelps's, and that there seemed to be great tokens and 
effects of the presence of God there, which greatly encouraged 
and rejoiced me. About an hour and a half after, Mr. Buell came 
to our house, I sat still in entire resignedness to God, and willingness 
that God should bless his labors here as much as he pleased ; though 
it were to the enlivening of every saint, and to the conversion of 
every sinner, in the town. These feelings continued afterwards, 
when I saw his great success ; as 1 never felt the least rising of heart 
to the contrary, but my submission was even and uniform, without 
interruption or disturbance. I rejoiced when I saw the honor which 
God put upon him, and the respect paid him by the people, and the 
greater success attending his preaching, than had followed the 
preaching of Mr. Edwards immediately before he went to Leicester. 
I found rest and rejoicing in it, and the sweet language of my soul 
continually was, " Amen, Lord Jesus ! Amen, Lord Jesus !" 

" At 3 o'clock in the afternoon, a lecture was preached by Mr. 
Buell. In the latter part of the sermon, one or two appeared much 
moved, and after the blessing, when the people were going out, sev- 
eral others. To my mind there was the clearest evidence, that God 
was present in the congregation, on the word of redeeming love ; 
and in the clear view of this, I was all at once filled with such intense 
admiration of the wonderful condescension and grace of God, in re- 
turning again to Northampton, as overwhelmed my soul, and imme- 
diately took away my bodily strength. This was accompanied with 
an earnest longing, that those of us, who were the children of God, 
might now arise and strive. It appeared to me, that the angels in 
heaven sung praises, for such wonderful, free and sovereign grace, 
and my heart was lifted up in adoration and praise. I continued to 
have clear views of the future world, of eternal happiness and mise- 
ry, and my heart full of love to the souls of men. On seeing some 
that I found were in a natural condition, I felt a most tender compas- 
sion for them ; but especially was I, while I remained in the meeting- 
house, from time to time overcome, and my strength taken away, by 
the sight of one and another, whom I regarded as the children of 
God, and who, I had heard were lively and animated in religion. 
We remained in the meeting-house about three hours, after the pub- 
lic exercises were over. During most of the time, my bodily strength 
was overcome ; and the joy and thankfulness, which were excited in 
my mind, as I contemplated the great goodness of God, led me to 
converse with those who were near me, in a very earnest manner. 

" When I came home, I found Mr. Buell, Mr. Christophers, Mr. 
Hopkins, Mrs. Eleanor Dwight, the wife of Mr. Joseph Allen, and 
Mr. Job Strong, at the house. Seeing and conversing with them on 
the Divine goodness, renewed my former feelings, and filled me 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 313 

with an intense desire that we might all arise, and with an active, 
flowing and fervent heart, give glory to God. The intenseness of 
my feelings again took away my bodily strength. The words of one 
of Dr. Watts's Hosannas powerfully affected me ; and in the course 
of the conversation, I uttered them, as the real language of my heart 
with great earnestness and emotion. 

" Hosanna to King David's Son, 

<•' Who reigns on a superior throne," &c. 

And while I was uttering the words, my mind was so deeply impres- 
sed with the love of Christ, and a sense of his immediate presence, 
that I could with difficulty refrain from rising from my seat, and leap- 
ing for joy. I continued to enjoy this intense, and lively, and re- 
freshing sense of Divine things, accompanied with strong emotions, 
for nearly an hour ; after which, I experienced a delightful calm, and 
peace and rest in God, until I retired for the night; and during the 
night, both waking and sleeping, I had joyful views of Divine things, 
and a complacential rest of soul in God. I awoke in the morning of 
of Thursday, June 28th, in the same happy frame of mind, and 
engaged in the duties of my family with a sweet consciousness, that 
God was present with me, and with earnest longings of soul for the 
continuance, and increase of the blessed fruits of the Holy Spirit in 
the town. About nine o'clock, these desires became so exceedingly 
intense, when I saw numbers of the people coming into the house, 
with an appearance of deep interest in religion, that my bodily 
strength was much weakened, and it was with difficulty that I could 
pursue my ordinary avocations. About 11 o'clock, as I accidentally 
went into the room where Mr. Buell was conversing with some of 
the people, I heard him say, " O that we, who are the children of 
God, should be cold and lifeless in religion !" and I felt such a sense 
of the deep ingratitude manifested by the children of God, in such 
coldness and deadness, that my strength was immediately taken away 
and I sunk down on the spot. Those who were near raised me, and 
placed me in a chair ; and from the fulness of my heart, I express- 
ed to them, in a very earnest manner, the deep sense I had of the 
wonderful grace of Christ towards me, of the assurance I had of his 
having saved me from hell, of my happiness running parallel with 
eternity, of the duty of giving up all to God, and of the peace and 
joy inspired by an entire dependence on his mercy and grace. Mr. 
Buell then read a melting hymn of Dr. Watts,* concerning the loveli- 
ness of Christ, the enjoyments and employments of heaven, and the 
christian's earnest desire of heavenly things, and the truth and reality of 
the things mentioned in the hymn, made so strong an impression on my 

* Probably the 91st Hymn of the 2d Book, beginning with 

" O the delights, the heavenly joys, 
" The glories of the place. 
40 



314 MEMOIRS OF 

mind, and my soul was drawn so powerfully towards Christ and 
heaven, that 1 leaped unconsciously from my chair. I seemed to be 
drawn upwards, soul and body,- from the earth towards heaven; and 
it appeared to me that I must naturally and necessarily ascend thith- 
er. These feelings continued while the hymn was reading, and du- 
ring the prayer of Mr. Christophers, which followed. After the 
prayer, Mr. Buell read two other hymns, on the glories of heaven, 
which moved me so exceedingly, and drew me so strongly heaven- 
ward, that it seemed as it were to draw my body upwards, and I felt 
as if I must necessarily ascend thither. At length my strength failed 
me, and I sunk down ; when they took me up and laid me on the 
bed, where I lay for a considerable time, faint with joy, while con- 
templating the glories of the heavenly world. After I had lain a 
while, I felt more perfectly subdued and weaned from the world, 
and more fully resigned to God, than I had ever been conscious of 
before. I felt an entire indifference to the opinions, and representa- 
tions and conduct of mankind respecting me ; and a perfect willing- 
ness, that God should employ some other instrument than Mr. Ed- 
wards, in advancing the work of grace in Northampton. I was en- 
tirely swallowed up in God, as my only portion, and his honor and glory 
was the object of my supreme desire and delight. At the same 
time, I felt a far greater love to the children of God, than ever be- 
fore. I seemed to love them as my own soul ; and when I saw them 
my heart went out towards them, with an inexpressible endearedness 
and sweetness. I beheld them by faith in their risen and glorified 
state, with spiritual bodies re-fashioned after the image of Christ's 
glorious body, and arrayed in the beauty of heaven. The time 
when they would be so, appeared very near, and by faith it seemed 
as if it were present. This was accompanied with a ravishing sense 
of the unspeakable joys of the upper world. They appeared to my 
mind in all their reality and certainty, and as it were in actual and 
distinct vision ; so plain and evident were they to the eye of my faith, 
I seemed to regard them as begun. These anticipations were re- 
newed over and over, while I lay on the bed, from twelve o'clock 
till four, being too much exhausted by emotions of joy, to rise and 
sit up ; and during most of the time, my feelings prompted me to 
converse very earnestly, with one and another of the pious women, 
who were present, on those spiritual and heavenly objects, of which 
I had so deep an impression. A little while before I arose, Mr. 
Buell and the people went to meeting. 

" I continued in a sweet and lively sense of Divine things, until 
I retired to rest. That night, which was Thursday night, Jan. 28, 
was the sweetest night I ever had in my life. I never before, for so 
long a time together, enjoyed so much of the light, and rest, and 
sweetness of heaven in my soul, but without the least agitation of 
body during the whole time. The great part of the night I lay 
awake, sometimes asleep, and sometimes between sleeping and wa- 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 315 

king. But all night I continued in a constant, clear and lively sense 
of the heavenly sweetness of Christ's excellent and transcendent 
love, of his nearness to me, and of my dearness to him ; with an in- 
expressibly sweet calmness of soul in an entire rest in him. I seem- 
ed to myself to perceive a glow of divine love come down from the 
heart of Christ in heaven, into my heart, in a constant stream, like 
a stream or pencil of sweet light. At the same time, my heart and 
soul all flowed out in love to Christ ; so that there seemed to be a 
constant flowing and re-flowing of heavenly and divine love, from 
Christ's heart to mine ; and I appeared to myself to float or swim, 
in these bright sweet beams of the love of Christ, like the motes 
swimming in the beams of the sun, or the streams of his light which 
come in at the window. My soul remained in a kind of heavenly 
elysium. So far as I am capable of making a comparison, I think 
that what I felt each minute, during the continuance of the whole 
time, was worth more than all the outward comfort and pleasure 
which I had enjoyed in my whole life put together. It was a pure 
delight, which fed and satisfied the soul. It was pleasure, without 
the least sting, or any interruption. It was a sw r eetness, which my 
soul was lost in. It seemed to be all that my feeble frame could 
sustain, of that fullness of joy, which is felt by those, who behold 
the face of Christ, and share his love in the heavenly world. There 
was but little difference, whether I was asleep or awake, so deep was 
the deep impression made on my soul ; but if there was any differ- 
ence, the sweetness was greatest and most uninterrupted, while I 
was asleep. 

" As I awoke early the next morning, which was Friday, I was 
led to think of Mr. Williams of Hadley preaching that day in the 
town, as had been appointed ; and to examine my heart, whether 
I was willing that he, who was a neighboring minister, should be ex- 
traordinarily blessed, and made a greater instrument of good in the 
town, than Mr. Edwards ; and was enabled to say, with respect to 
that matter, " Amen, Lord Jesus !" and to be entirely willing, if 
God pleased, that he should be the instrument of converting every 
soul in the town. My soul acquiesced fully in the will of God, as to 
the instrument, if his work of renewing grace did but go on. 

" This lively sense of the beauty and excellency of divine things, 
continued during the morning, accompanied with peculiar sweetness 
and delight. To my own imagination, my soul seemed to be gone 
out of me to God and Christ in heaven, and to have very little rela- 
tion to my body. God and Christ were so present to me, and so 
near me, that I seemed removed from myself. The spiritual beauty 
of the Father and the Savior, seemed to engross my whole mind ; 
and it was the instinctive feeling of my heart, " Thou art ; and there 
is none beside thee." I never felt such an entire emptiness of self- 
love, or any regard to any private, selfish interest of my own. It 
seemed to me, that I had entirely done with myself. I felt that the 



316 MEMOIRS OF 

opinions of the world concerning me were nothing, and that I had no 
more to do with any outward interests of my own, than with that of 
a person whom I never saw. The glory of God seemed to be all, 
and in all, and to swallow up every wish and desire of my heart. 

"Mr. Sheldon came into the house about 10 o'clock, and said to 
me as he came in, " The Sun of righteousness arose on my soul this 
morning, before day;" upon which I said to him in reply, "That 
Sun has not set upon my soul all this night ; I have dwelt on high in 
the heavenly mansions ; the light of divine love has surrounded me ; 
my soul has been lost in God, and has almost left the body." This 
conversation only served to give me a still livelier sense of the reality 
and excellence of divine things, and that to such a degree, as again to 
take away my strength, and occasion great agitation of body. So 
strong were my feelings, I could not refrain from conversing with 
those around me, in a very earnest manner, for about a quarter of 
an hour, on the infinite riches of divine love in the work of salva- 
tion : when my strength entirely failing, my flesh grew very cold, 
and they carried me and set me by the fire. As I sat there, I had a 
most affecting sense of the mighty power of Christ, which had been 
exerted in what he had done for my soul, and in sustaining and 
keeping down the native corruptions of my heart, and of the glorious 
and wonderful grace of God in causing the ark to return to Northamp- 
ton. So intense were my feelings, when speaking of these things, 
that I could not forbear rising up and leaping with joy and exultation. 
I felt at the same time an exceedingly strong and tender affection for 
the children of God, and realized, in a manner exceedingly sweet 
and ravishing, the meaning of Christ's prayer, in John xvii. 21, 
" That they all may be one, as thou Father art in me, and 1 in thee, 
that they also may be one in ws." This union appeared to me an in- 
conceivable, excellent and sweet oneness ; and at the same time I 
felt that oneness in my soul, with the children of God who were 
present. Mr. Christophers then read the hymn out of the Peniten- 
tial cries, beginning with 

M My soul doth magnify the Lord, 
" My spirit doth rejoice ;" 

The whole hymn was deeply affecting to my feelings : but when 
these words were read, 

" My sighs at length are turn'd to songs, 
" The comforter is come :" 

So conscious was 1 of the joyful presence of the holy Spirit, I could 
scarcely refrain from leaping with transports of joy. This happy 
frame of mind continued until two o'clock, when Mr. Williams came 
in, and we soon went to meeting. He preached on the subject of 
the assurance of faith. The whole sermon was affecting to me, but 
especially when he came to show the way in which assurance was 
obtained, and to point out its happy fruits. When I heard him say, 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 317 

that those, who have assurance, have a foretaste of heavenly glory, I 
knew the truth of it from what I then felt : I knew that I then tasted 
the clusters of the heavenly Canaan : My soul was filled and over- 
whelmed with light and love, and joy in the Holy Ghost, and seemed 
just ready to go away from the body. 1 could scarcely refrain from 
expressing my joy aloud, in the midst of the service. I had in the 
mean time, an overwhelming sense of the glory of God, as the Great 
Eternal All, and of the happiness of having my own will entirely 
subdued to his will. I knew that the foretaste of glory, which I then 
had in my soul, came from him, that I certainly should go to him, 
and should, as it were, drop into the Divine Being, and be swal- 
lowed up in God. 

11 After meeting was done, the congregation waited while Mr. 
Buell went home to prepare to give them a Lecture. It was almost 
dark before he came, and in the mean time, I conversed in a very 
earnest and joyful manner, with those who were with me in the pew. 
My mind dwelt on the thought, that the Lord God Omnipotent reign- 
eth, and it appeared to me that he was going to set up a reign of 
love on the earth, and that heaven and earth were, as it were, coming 
together ; which so exceedingly moved me that I could not forbear 
expressing aloud, to those near me, my exultation of soul. This 
subsided into a heavenly calm, and a rest of soul in God, which was 
even sweeter than what preceded it. Afterwards Mr. Buell came 
and preached ; and the same happy frame of mind continued during 
the evening, and night, and the next day. In the forenoon I was 
thinking of the manner in which the children of God had been trea- 
ted in the world — particularly of their being shut up in prison — and 
the folly of such attempts to make them miserable, seemed to sur- 
prise me. It appeared astonishing, that men should think, by this 
means, to injure those who had such a kingdom within them. To- 
wards night, being informed that Mrs. P had expressed her 

fears least I should die before Mr. Edwards' return, and he should 
think the people had killed his wife ; I told those who were present, 
that I chose to die in the way that was most agreeable to God's will, 
and that I should be willing to die in darkness and horror, if it was 
most for the glory of God. 

11 In the evening, I read those chapters in John, which contain 
Christ's dying discourse with his disciples, and his prayer with them. 
After I had done reading, and was in my retirement, a little before 
bed time, thinking on what I had read, my soul was so filled with 
love to Christ, and love to his people, that I. fainted under the in- 
tenseness of the feeling. I felt while reading, a delightful acquies- 
cence in the petition to the Father — " 1 pray not that thou shouldst 
take them out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from 
evil" Though it seemed to me infinitely better to die to go to 
Christ, yet I felt an entire willingness to continue in this world so 
long as God pleased, to do and suffer what he would have me. 



318 MEMOIRS OF 

" After retiring to rest and sleeping a little while, I awoke and had 
a very lively consciousness of God's being near me. 1 had an idea 
of a shining way, or path of light, between heaven and my soul, 
somewhat as on Thursday night, except that God seemed nearer to 
me, and as it were close by, and the way seemed more open, and 
the communication more immediate and more free. I lay awake 
most of the night, with a constant delightful sense of God's great love 
and infinite condescension, and with a continual view of God as near, 
and as my God. My soul remained, as on Thursday night, in a kind 
of heavenly elysium. Whether waking or sleeping, there was no in- 
terruption, throughout the night, to the views of my soul, to its heav- 
enly light, and divine, inexpressible sweetness. It was without any 
agitation or motion of the body. I was led to reflect on God's mer- 
cy to me, in giving me, for many years, a willingness to die ; and 
after that, for more than two years past, in making me willing to live, 
that I might do and suffer whatever he called me to here ; whereas, 
before that, 1 often used to feel impatient at the thought of living. 
This then appeared to me, as it had often done before, what gave 
me much the greatest sense of thankfulness to God. I also thought 
how God had graciously given me, for a great while, an entire re- 
signation to his will, with respect to the kind and manner of death 
that I should die ; having been made willing to die on the rack, or at 
the stake, or any other tormenting death, and, if it were God's will, 
to die in darkness : and how I had that day been made very sensi- 
ble and fully willing, if it was God's pleasure and for his glory, to 
die in horror. But now it occurred to me, that when I had thus 
been made willing to live, and to be kept on this dark abode, I used 
to think of living no longer than to the ordinary age of man. Upon 
this I was led to ask myself, Whether I was not willing to be kept 
out of heaven even longer ; and my whole heart seemed immediate- 
ly to reply, " Yes, a thousand years, if it be God's will, and for his 
honor and glory :" and then my heart, in the language of resignation, 
went further, and with great alacrity and sweetness, to answer as it 
were over and over again, "Yes, and live a thousand years in hor- 
ror, if it be most for the glory of God : yea, I am willing to live a 
thousand years a hell upon earth, if it be most for the honor of 
God." But then I considered with myself, What this would be, to 
live a hell upon earth, for so long a time ; and I thought of the tor- 
ment of my body being so great, awful and overwhelming, that none 
could bear to live in the country where the spectacle was seen, and 
of the torment and horror of my mind being vastly greater than the 
torment of my body ; and it seemed to me that I found a perfect 
willingness, and sweet quietness and alacrity of soul, in consenting 
that it should be so, if it were most for the glory of God ; so that 
there was no hesitation, doubt or darkness in my mind, attending 
the thoughts of it, but my resignation seemed to be clear, like a light 
that shone through my soul. I continued saying, " Amen, Lord Je- 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 319 

sus ! Amen, Lord Jesus ! glorify thyself in me, in my body and my 
soul," — w ith a calm and sweetness of soul, which banished all reluc- 
tance. The glory of God seemed to overcome me and swallow me 
up, and every conceivable suffering, and every thing that was terri- 
ble to my nature, seemed to shrink to nothing before it. This resig- 
nation continued in its clearness and brightness the rest of the night, 
and all the next day, and the night following, and on Monday in the 
forenoon, without interruption or abatement. All this while, when- 
ever I thought of it, the language of my soul was, with the great- 
est fullness and alacrity, "Amen, Lord Jesus! Amen, Lord Jesus !" 
In the afternoon of Monday, it was not quite so perceptible and live- 
ly, but my mind remained so much in a similar frame, for more than 
a week, that I could never think of it without an inexpressible sweet- 
ness in my soul. 

" After I had felt this resignation on Saturday night, for some time 
as I lay in bed, I felt such a disposition to rejoice in God, that I wish- 
ed to have the world join me in praising him ; and was ready to won- 
der how the world of mankind could lie and sleep, when there was 
such a God to praise, and rejoice in, and could scarcely forbear call- 
ing out to those who were asleep in the house, to arise, and rejoice, 
and praise God. When I arose on the morning of the Sabbath, I 
felt a love to all mankind, wholly peculiar in its strength and sweet- 
ness, far beyond all that I had ever felt before. The power of that 
love seemed to be inexpressible. I thought, if I were surrounded 
by enemies, who were venting their malice and cruelty upon me, in 
tormenting me, it would still be impossible that I should cherish any 
feelings towards them but those of love, and pity and ardent desires 
for their happiness. At the same time I thought, if I were cast off 
by my nearest and dearest friends, and if the feelings and conduct of 
my husband were to be changed from tenderness and afFection, to 
extreme hatred and cruelty, and that every day, I could so rest in 
God, that it would not touch my heart, or diminish my happiness. I 
could still go on with alacrity in the performance of every act of du- 
ty, and my happiness remain undiminished and entire. 

" I never before felt so far from a disposition to judge and censure 
others, with respect to the state of their hearts, their sincerity, or their 
attainments in holiness, as I did that morning. To do this, seemed 
abhorrent to every feeling of my heart. I realized also, in an unu- 
sual and very lively manner, how great a part of Christianity lies in 
the performance of our social and relative duties to one another. 
The same lively and joyful sense of spiritual and divine things con- 
tinued throughout the day — a sweet love to God and all mankind, 
and such an entire rest of soul, in God, that it seemed as if nothing 
that could be said of me, or done to me, could touch my heart, or 
disturb my enjoyment. The road between heaven and my soul seem- 
ed open and wide, all the day long ; and the consciousness I had of 
the reality and excellence of heavenly things was so clear, and the 



320 MEMOIRS Off 

affections they excited so intense, that it overcame my strength, and 
kept my body weak and faint, the great part of the day, so that I 
could not stand or go without help. The night also was comforting 
and refreshing. 

" This delightful frame of mind was continued on Monday. About 
noon, one of the neighbors, who was conversing with me, expressed 
himself thus, " One smile from Christ is worth a thousand million 
pounds," and the words affected me exceedingly, and in a manner 
which I cannot express. I had a strong sense of the infinite worth 
of Christ's approbation and love, and at the same time of the gross- 
ness of the comparison ; and it only astonished me, that any one 
could compare a smile of Christ to any earthly treasure. — Towards 
night, I had a deep sense of the awful greatness of God, and felt with 
what humility and reverence we ought to behave ourselves before 

him. Just then Mr. W came in, and spoke with a somewhat 

light, smiling air, of the flourishing state of religion in the town ; 
which I could scarcely bear to see. It seemed to me, that we ought 
greatly to revere the presence of God, and to behave ourselves with 
the utmost solemnity and humility, when so great and holy a God 
was so remarkably present, and to rejoice before him with trem- 
bling. — In the evening, these words, in the Penitential Cries, — "The 
Comforter is come !" — were accompanied to my soul with such 
conscious certainty, and such intense joy, that immediately it took 
away my strength, and I was falling to the floor ; when some of those 
who were near me caught me and held me up. And when I repeat- 
ed the words to the by-standers, the strength of my feelings was in- 
creased. The name — "The Comforter" — seemed to denote that 
the Holy Spirit was the only and infinite Fountain of comfort and 
joy, and this seemed real and certain to my mind. These words — 
" The Comforter" — seemed as it were immensely great, enough 
to fill heaven and earth. 

" On Tuesday after dinner, Mr. Buell, as he sat at table, began to 
discourse about the glories of the upper world ; which greatly affec- 
ted me, so as to take away my strength. The views and feelings of 
the preceding evening, respecting the Great Comforter, were renew- 
ed in the most lively and joyful manner ; so that my limbs grew cold, 
and I continued to a considerable degree overcome for about an hour, 
earnestly expressing to those around me, my deep and joyful sense 
of the presence and divine excellence of the Comforter, and of the 
glories of heaven. 

" It was either on Tuesday, or Wednesday, that Mr. W came 

to the house, and informed what account Mr. Lyman, who was just 
then come from Leicester, on his way from Boston, gave of Mr. Ed- 
wards's success, in making peace and promoting religion at Leices- 
ter. The intelligence inspired me with such an admiring sense of 
the great goodness of God, in using Mr. Edwards as the instrument 
of doing good, and promoting the work of salvation., that it immedi- 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 321 

diately overcame me, and took away my strength, .so that I could no 
longer stand on my feet. On Wednesday night, Mr. Clark, com- 
ing in with Mr. Buell and some of the people, asked me how I felt. 
I told him that I did not feel at all times alike, but this I thought I 
could say, that I had given up all to God, and there is nothing like it, 
nothing like giving up all to him, esteeming all to be his, and resign- 
ing all at his call. 1 told him that, many a time within a twelve- 
month, I had asked myself when I lay down, How I should feel, if 
our house and all our property in it should be burnt up, and we 
should that night be turned out naked ; whether I could cheerfully 
resign all to God ; and whether 1 so saw that all was his, that I could 
fully consent to his will, in being deprived of it ? and that I found, 
so far as I could judge, an entire resignation to his will, and felt that, 
if he should thus strip me of every thing, I had nothing to say, but 
should, I thought, have an entire calm and rest in God, for it was 
his own, and not mine. After this, Mr. Phelps gave us an account 
of his own feelings, during a journey from which he had just re- 
turned ; and then Mr. Pomeroy broke forth in the language of joy, 
and thankfulness and praise, and continued speaking to us nearly an 
hour, leading us all the time to rejoice in the visible presence of 
God, and to adore his infinite goodness and condescension. He con- 
cluded by saying, " I would say more, if I could ; but words were 
not made to express these things." This reminded me of the words 
of Mrs. Rowe : 

" More I would speak, but all my words are faint : 
" Celestial Love, what eloquence can paint ? 
" No more, by mortal words, can be expressed ; 
" But vast Eternity shall tell the rest ;" 

and my former impressions of heavenly and divine things were re- 
newed with so much power, and life and joy, that my strength all fail- 
ed me, and I remained for some time faint and exhausted. After 
the people had retired, I had a still more lively and joyful sense of 
the goodness and all-sufficiency of God, of the pleasure of loving 
him, and of being alive and active in his service, so that, I could not 
sit still, but walked the room for some time, in a kind of transport. 
The contemplation was so refreshing and delightful, so much like a 
heavenly feast within the soul, that I felt an absolute indifference as 
to any external circumstances ; and, according to my best remem- 
brance, this enlivening of my spirit continued so, that I slept but little 
that night. 

" The next day, being Thursday, between ten and eleven o'clock 
and a room full of people being collected, I heard two persons give 
a minute account of the enlivening and joyful influences of the Holy 
Spirit on their own hearts. It was sweet to me, to see others before 
me in their divine attainments, and to follow after them to heaven. 
I thought I should rejoice to follow the negro servants in the town to 
heaven. While I was thus listening, the consideration of the blessed 

41 



322 MEMOIRS OF 

appearances there were of God's being there with us, affected me 
so powerfully, that the joy and transport of the preceding night were 
again renewed. After this, they sang a hymn, which greatly moved 
me, especially the latter part of it, which speaks of the ungrateful- 
ness of not having the praises of Christ always on our tongues. Those 
last words of the hymn seemed to fasten on my mind, and as I re- 
peated them over, I felt such intense love to Christ, and so much de- 
light in praising him, that I could hardly forbear leaping from my 
chair, and singing aloud for joy and exultation. I continued thus 
extraordinarily moved until about one o'clock, when the people went 
away." 

It is true indeed, that very different views will be formed of the 
preceding narrative, by different individuals. Those, who have no 
conception of what is meant by the religion of the heart, will doubt- 
Jess pronounce it the offspring of a diseased body, or a distempered 
brain. Others, who profess the religion of Christ, but whose minds 
usually come in contact with nothing which is not merely palpable — 
with nothing but what they can either see, or hear, or feel, or taste, 
— will probably regard it as the effects of mere enthusiasm. While 
others, who are both more intellectual and more spiritual in their 
objects of contemplation, will at once perceive, that the state of mind 
therein described, is one to which they themselves are chiefly or 
wholly strangers ; and will therefore very naturally, and rationally 
wish to learn, somewhat more minutely, the circumstances of the in- 
dividual who was the subject of these spiritual discoveries, as well 
as their actual effects upon her character. On these points, the tes- 
timony of Mr. Edwards is full and explicit ; and from his authority, 
we state the following facts. 

At this time, Mrs. Edwards bad been long, in an uncommon man- 
ner, growing in grace, and rising, by very sensible degrees, to high- 
er love to God, weanedness from the world, and mastery over sin 
and temptation, through great trials and conflicts, and long continued 
struggling and fighting with sin, and earnest and constant prayer and 
labor in religion, and engagedness of mind in the use of all means, 
attended with a great exactness of life ; and this growth had been 
attended, not only with a great increase of religious affections, but 
with a most visible alteration of outward behavior ; particularly in 
living above the world, and in a greater degree of steadfastness and 
strength in the way of duty and self-denial ; maintaining the christian 
conflict against temptations, and conquering from time to time under 
great trials ; persisting in an unmoved, untouched calm and rest, under 
the changes and accidents of time, such as seasons of extreme pain, 
and apparent hazard of immediate death. These transports did 
not arise from bodily weakness, but were greatest in the best state of 
health. They were accompanied with a lively sense of the greatness 
of God, and her own littleness and vileness ; and had abiding effects, 
in the increase of the sweetness, rest and humility, which they left 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 323 

upon the soul, and in a new engagedness of heart to live to the hon- 
or of God, and to watch and fight against sin. They were attended 
with no enthusiastical disposition to follow impulses, or supposed 
revelations, nor with any appearance of spiritual pride ; but on the 
contrary, with a very great increase of meekness, and humility, and 
a disposition in honor to prefer others, as well as with a great aver- 
sion to judging others, and a strong sense of the importance of mor- 
al, social duties. They were accompanied with an extraordinary 
sense of the awful majesty of God, so as frequently to take away the 
bodily strength ; with a sense of the holiness of God, as of a flame 
infinitely pure and bright, so as oftentimes to overwhelm soul and 
body; with an extraordinary view of the infinite terribleness of his 
wrath, of the exceeding sinfulness of her own heart, and of a desert 
of that wrath forever ; with an intense sorrow for sin, so as entirely 
to prostrate the strength of the body ; with a clear certainty of the 
truth of the great things revealed in the Gospel ; with an overwhelm- 
ing sense of the glory of the work of redemption, and the way of 
salvation by Jesus Christ, of the glorious harmony of the Divine at- 
tributes appearing therein, as that wherein mercy and truth have met 
together, and righteousness and peace have kissed each other ; with 
a sight of the glorious sufficiency of Christ, a constant immoveable 
trust in God, an overwhelming sense of his glorious unsearchable 
wisdom, a sweet rejoicing at his being infinitely and unchangeably 
happy, independent and all-sufficient, at his reigning over all, and 
doing his own will with uncontrollable power and sovereignty; with a 
delightful sense of the glory of the Holy Spirit, as the great Comfor- 
ter ; with intense desires for the honor and glory of God's name, a clear 
and constant preference of it, not only to her own temporal interests, 
but to her spiritual comfort; with a willingness to live and die in spir- 
itual darkness, if the honor of God required it, a great lamenting of 
ingratitude, intense longings and faintings after higher love to Christ, 
and greater conformity to him — particularly to be more perfect in hu- 
mility and adoration ; with great delight in singing praises to God and 
Jesus Christ, a desire that this present life might be one continued song 
of praise, and an overcoming pleasure at the thought of spending eterni- 
ty in that exercise ; with a living by faith in a very unusual manner; 
with a uniform distrust of her own strength, and a great dependence 
on God for help ; with intense longings that all christians might be 
fervent in love, and active in the service of God ; with taking pleasure 
in watchfulness and toil, self-denial and bearing the cross ; with a 
melting compassion for those who were in a state of nature, and for 
christians under darkness, a universal benevolence to all mankind, 
a willingness to endure any suffering for the conversion of the im- 
penitent — her compassion for them being often to that degree, that 
she could find no support nor rest, but in going to God and pour- 
ing out her soul in prayer for them ; with earnest, desires that the 
then existing work of Divine grace might be carried on with greater 



324 MEMOIRS OF 

purity, and freedom from all bitter zeal, censoriousness, spiritual 
pride and angry controversy, and that the kingdom of Christ might 
be established through the earth, as a kingdom of holiness, peace, 
and joy ; with unspeakable delight in the thoughts of heaven, as a world 
of love, where love shall be the saints' eternal food, where they shall 
dwell in the light of love, and where the very air and breath will be 
nothing but love ; intense love to the people of God, as to those who 
will soon wear his perfect image ; with earnest desires that others 
might love God better than herself, and attain to higher degrees of 
holiness ; with a delight in conversing on the most spiritual and 
heavenly things in religion, often engaging in such conversation, with a 
degree of feeling too intense to be long endured ; and with a lively 
sense of the importance of charity to the poor, as well as of the 
need which ministers have of the influences of the Holy Spirit, and 
earnest longings and wrestlings with God for them in prayer. She 
had also, according to Mr. Edwards, the greatest, fullest, longest 
continued, and most constant Assurance of the favor of God, and of a 
title to future glory, that he ever saw any appearance of, in any per- 
son ; — enjoying, especially near the time in which he made this state- 
ment, to use her own expression, the riches of Full Assurance ; 
as well as an uninterrupted, entire resignation to God, with respect 
to health or sickness, ease or pain, life or death, and an entire resig- 
nation of the lives of her nearest earthly friends. These things were 
attended with a constant, sweet peace and serenity of soul, without 
a cloud to interrupt it, a continual rejoicing in all the works of nature 
and providence, a wonderful access to God by prayer, sensibly con- 
versing with him, as much as if Christ were here on earth ; frequent, 
plain, sensible and immediate, answers of prayer, all tears wiped away, 
all former troubles and sorrows of life forgotten, excepting sorrow 
for sin, doing every thing for God and his glory, doing it as the ser- 
vice of love, with a continual, uninterrupted cheerfulness, peace and 
joy. " O how good," she once observed, "is it to work for God in 
the day time, and at night to lie down under his smiles." Instead of 
slighting the means of grace in consequence of these discoveries, she 
was never more sensible of her need of instruction ; instead of re- 
garding herself as free from sin, she was led by her clearer sight of 
the Divine holiness, to perceive more fully the sinfulness of her own 
heart ; instead of neglecting the business of life, she performed it 
with greater alacrity, as a part of the service of God — declaring 
that, when thus done, it was as delightful as prayer itself. At the 
same time, she discovered an extreme anxiety to avoid every sin, and 
to discharge every moral obligation, was most exemplary in the per- 
formance of every social and relative duty, exhibiting great inoffen- 
siveness of life and conversation, great meekness, gentleness and be- 
nevolence of spirit, and avoided, with remarkable conscientiousness, 
all those things, which she regarded as failings in her own character. 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 325 

To those, who, after reading this statement of facts, still regard the 
preceding narrative as the offspring of enthusiasm, we shall draw 
our reply from Mr. Edwards himself: "Now if such things are en- 
thusiasm, and the offspring of a distempered brain ; let my brain be 
possessed evermore of that happy distemper ! If this be distraction ; 
I pray God that the world of mankind may all be seized with this 
benign, meek, beneficent, beatific, glorious distraction ! What no- 
tion have they of true religion, who reject what has here been descri- 
bed ? What shall we find to correspond with these expressions of 
Scripture, The peace of God, that passeth all understanding : Re- 
joicing with joy unspeakable, and full of glory : God's shining into 
our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in 
the face of Jesus Christ : With open face, beholding as in a glass 
the glory of God, and being changed into the same image, from glory 
to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord : Being called out of dark- 
ness into marvelous light: and having the day-star arise in our 
heart: What let me ask, if these things that have been mentioned 
do not correspond with these expressions ; what else can we find that 
does correspond with them ?" 

Mr. Edwards adds, that he had witnessed many instances, in 
Northampton and elsewhere, of other persons, which were in general, 
of the same kind with these, though not so high in degree, in any in- 
stance ; and, in many of them, not so pure and unmixed, or so well 
regulated. In some individuals, who discovered very intense religious 
affections, there was obviously a great mixture of nature with grace, 
and in some a sad degenerating of religious affections ; yet, in most 
instances, they were uniform in their character, and obviously the re- 
sult of fervent piety. 

The character of Mrs. Edwards's piety, which led her to secure 
to others as well as herself, the enjoyment of the peace of God, is 
exhibited in the following anecdote, related by Dr. Hopkins in his 
life of President Edwards. 

" In the month of December," he observes, "being furnished with 
a horse, I set out for Northampton, with a view to live with Mr. Ed- 
wards, where I was an utter stranger. When I arrived there, Mr. 
Edwards was not at home ; but I was received with great kindness by 
Mrs. Edwards and the family, and had encouragement that I might 
live there during the winter. Mr. Edwards was absent on a preach- 
ing tour, as people in general were greatly attentive to religion and 
preaching, which was attended with remarkable effects, in the con- 
viction and supposed conversion of multitudes. I was very gloomy, 
and was most of the time retired in my chamber. After some days. 
Mrs. Edwards came into my chamber, and said, " As I was now be- 
come a member of the family for a season, she felt herself interest- 
ed in my welfare ; and, as she observed that I appeared gloomy and 
dejected, she hoped I would not think she intruded, by her desiring 
to know, and asking me what was the occasion of it," or to that pur- 



326 MEMOIRS OF 

pose. I told her the freedom she used was agreeable to me ; that 
the occasion of the appearance which she mentioned, was the state 
in which I considered myself. I was in a Christless, graceless state, 
and had been under a degree of conviction and concern for myself, 
for a number of months ; had got no relief, and my case, instead of 
growing better, appeared to grow worse. Upon which we entered 
into a free conversation ; and on the whole she told me, that she had 
peculiar exercises in prayer respecting me, since I had been in the 
family; that she trusted I should receive light and comfort, and 
doubted not that God intended yet to do great things by me." 

President Edwards himself was fully sensible of the value of his 
amiable and excellent consort. Much of the tender and affection- 
ate was expressed in his conversation with her, and in all his con- 
duct towards her. He was often visited by her in his study, and 
conversed freely with her on matters of religion ; and he used com- 
monly to pray with her in his study, at least once a day, unless some- 
thing extraordinary prevented. The season for this was commonly 
in the evening, after prayers in the family, just before going to bed. 
As he rose very early himself, he was wont to have his family up be- 
times in the morning ; after which, before they entered on the busi- 
ness of the day, he attended on family prayers ; when a chapter in 
the Bible was read, commonly, by candle light in the winter ; upon 
which he asked his children questions, according to their age and 
capacity ; and took occasion to explain some passages in it, or enforce 
any duly recommended, as he thought proper. 

Under the guidance of such parents, laboring unitedly and harmo- 
niously for their offspring's best good, it would naturally be expected 
that the children, who enjoyed their instructions, would profit by it in 
an eminent degree. Such was the case, and many of their eleven 
children were distinguished for piety and usefulness. Jerusha, the 
second daughter, who died at the age of nineteen, had been the ob- 
ject of the sincere regard and affection of all who knew her, and 
particularly of the eminent David Brainerd, who died at Mr. Ed- 
wards's house but a few months before her. Her father, in a note 
to the Memoirs of Brainerd, thus alludes to this distressing event. 
" Since this, it has pleased a holy and sovereign God, to take away 
this my dear child by death, on the 14th of February, next follow- 
ing, after a short illness of five days, in the eighteenth year of her 
age. She was a person of much the same spirit with Brainerd. She 
had constantly taken care of, and attended him in his sickness, for 
nineteen weeks before his death ; devoting herself to it with great 
delight, because she looked on him as an eminent servant of Jesus 
Christ. In this time, he had much conversation with her on the 
things of religion ; and, in his dying state, often expressed to us, her 
parents, his great satisfaction concerning her true piety, and his con- 
fidence that he should meet her in heaven, and his high opinion of 
her not only as a real christian, but as a very eminent saint : one 



MBS. SARAH EDWARDS, 327 

whose soul was uncommonly fed and entertained with things which 
pertain to the most spiritual, experimental and distinguishing parts 
of religion ; and one, who, by the temper of her mind, was fitted 
to deny herself for God, and to do good, beyond any young woman 
whatsoever whom he knew. She had manifested a heart uncom- 
monly devoted to God in the course of her life, many years before 
her death ; and said on her death-bed, that she had not seen one 
minute, for several years, wherein she desired to live one minute long- 
er, for the sake of any other good in life, but doing good, living to 
God, and doing what might be for his glory." 

The third daughter, Esther, afterwards became the wife of the 
Rev. Aaron Burr, President of New Jersey College, at Princeton. 

President Burr died at Princeton, September 25, 1757, and im- 
mediately after that event, Mr. Edwards was chosen to succeed his 
son-in-law, in the presidency of the college. He accepted the call, 
and in the beginning of the next year went to Princeton, to enter on 
the duties of his office. 

" The small pox had now become very common in the country, 
and was then at Princeton, and likely to spread. And as Mr. Ed- 
wards had never had it, and inoculation was then practised with 
great success in those parts, he proposed to be inoculated, if the 
physician should advise to it, and the corporation would give their 
consent. Accordingly, by the advice of the physician, and the con- 
sent of the corporation, he was inoculated February 13th. He 
had it favorably, and it was thought all danger was over ; but a 
secondary fever set in, and, by reason of a number of pustules in 
his throat, the obstruction was such, that the medicines necessary to 
check the fever, could not be administered. It therefore raged till 
it put an end to his life, on the 22d of March, 1758, in the 55th 
year of his age. 

The physician, who inoculated and constantly attended him, in 
his sickness, addressed the following letter to Mrs. Edwards, on this 
occasion : 

"To Mrs. Sarah Edwards, Stockbridge. 

"Princeton, March 22, 1758. 
" Most dear and very worthy Madam, 

" I am heartily sorry for the occasion of my writing to you, by 
this express, but I know you have been informed, by a line from 
your excellent, lovely and pious husband, that I was brought here 
to inoculate him, and your dear daughter Esther, and her children, 
for the small pox, which was then spreading fast in Princeton ; and 
that, after the most deliberate and serious consultation, with his 
nearest and most religious friends, he was accordingly inoculated 
with them, the 23d of last month ; and although he had the small 
pox favorably, yet, having a number of them in the roof of his 
mouth and throat, he could not possibly swallow a sufficient quantity 



328 MEMOIRS OF 

of drink, to keep off a secondary fever, which has proved too strong 
for his feeble frame ; and this afternoon, between two and three 
o'clock, it pleased God to let him sleep in that dear Lord Jesus, 
whose kingdom and interest he has been faithfully and painfully 
serving all his life. And never did any mortal man, more fully and 
clearly evidence the sincerity of all his professions, by one continu- 
ed, universal, calm, cheerful resignation, and patient submission to 
the divine will, through every stage of his disease, than he ; not so 
much as one discontented expression, nor the least appearance of 
murmuring, through the whole. And never did any person expire 
with more perfect freedom from pain ; — not so much as one distort- 
ed hair — but in the most proper sense of the words, he fell asleep. 
Death had certainly lost its sting, as to him. 

" Your daughter, Mrs. Burr, and her children, through the mer- 
cy of God, are safely over the disease, and she desires me to send 
her duty to you, the best of mothers. She has had the small pox 
the heaviest of all, whom I have inoculated, and little Sally, far the 
lightest ; she has but three in her face. I am sure it will prove ser- 
viceable to her future health. 

" I conclude, with my hearty prayer, dear Madam, that you may 
be enabled to look to that God, whose love and goodness you have 
experienced a thousand times, for direction and help, under this 
most afflictive dispensation of his providence, and under every other 
difficulty, you may meet with here, in order to your being more 
perfectly fitted for the joys of heaven, hereafter. 
" I am, dear Madam, 

" Your most sympathizing 
"And affectionate friend, 
"And very humble servant, 

"William Shippen." 

This letter reached Mrs. Edwards, while in a feeble state of 
health, when she was preparing to pay a visit, first to her sister, 
Mrs. Hopkins, at West Springfield, and then to her mother, Mrs. 
Edwards, of Windsor, in consequence of the death of Mr. Edwards's 
father. What her feelings were, and those of her family, under this 
unexpected and overwhelming dispensation, can be more easily con- 
ceived than described. 

" She had long told her intimate friends, that she had, after long 
struggles and exercises, obtained, by God's grace, a habitual wil- 
lingness to die herself, or part with any of her most near relatives. 
That she was willing to bring forth children for death ; and to resign 
up him, whom she esteemed so great a blessing to her and her 
family, her nearest partner, to the stroke of death, whenever God 
should see fit to take him. And when she had the greatest trial, in 
the death of Mr. Edwards, she found the help and comfort of such 
a disposition. Her conduct on this occasion, was such as to excite 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 329 

the admiration of her friends ; it discovered that she was sensible of 
the great loss, which she and her children had sustained in his death; 
and, at the same time, showed that she was quiet and resigned, and 
had those invisible supports, which enabled her to trust in God with 
quietness, hope, and humble joy." 

A few days afterwards, she addressed the following letter to 
Mrs. Burr. 

" Stockbridge* April 3, 1758. 

"MY VERY DEAR CHILD, 

" What shall I say ! A holy and good God has covered us with 
a dark cloud. O that we may kiss the rod, and lay our hands on 
our mouths! The Lord has done it. He has made me adore his 
goodness, that we had him so long. But my God lives ; and he 
has my heart. O what a legacy my husband, and your father, has 
left us ! We are all given to God ; and there I am, and love to be. 
" Your ever affectionate mother, 

" Sarah Edwards." 

On the same sheet, was the following letter from one of her 
daughters. 

"My dear Sister, 

" My mother wrote this, with a great deal of pain, in her neck, 
which disabled her from writing any more. She thought you would 
be glad of these few lines from her own hand. 

" O, sister, how many calls have we, one upon the back of an- 
other. O, I beg your prayers, that we, who are young in this fami- 
ly, may be awakened and excited to call more earnestly on God, 
that he would be our Father and friend forever. 

" My father took leave of all his people and family as affection- 
ately, as if he knew he should not come again. On the Sabbath 
afternoon, he preached from these words, — We have no continuing 
city, therefore let us seek one to come. The chapter that he read 
was Acts the 20th. O, how proper ; what could he have done 
more. When he had got out of doors he turned about, — " I com- 
mit you to God," — said he. I doubt not but God will take a father- 
ly care of us, if we do not forget him. 

" I am your ever affectionate sister, 

"Susannah Edwards." 

"Stockbridge, April 3, 1758. 

" Mrs. Burr and her children were inoculated, at the same time 
that her father was, and had recovered when he died. But after 

* Mr. Edwards, after his dismission from Northampton, in 1750, removed to Stock- 
bridge, where he labored as a pastor of the church and a missionary among the In- 
dian-, till he was railed to Princeton. He left his family there for a short time, till 
he should make arrangements for their removal. 

42 



330 MEMOIRS OF 

she was perfectly recovered, to all appearance, she was suddenly 
seized with a violent disorder, which carried her off in a few days ; 
and which, the physician said, he could call by no name, but that 
of a messenger, sent suddenly, to call her out of the world. She 
died, April 7, 1758, sixteen days after her father, in the 27th year 
of her age. She was married to Mr. Burr, June 29, 1752. They 
had two children, a son and a daughter. This son was Aaron Burr, 
afterwards Vice President of the United States ; — the daughter be- 
came the wife of the Hon. Tapping Reeve, of Litchfield, Judge of 
the Supreme Court of Connecticut. 

" Mrs. Burr exceeded most of her sex, in the beauty of her 
person, as well as in her behavior and conversation. She discov- 
ered an unaffected, natural freedom, towards persons of all ranks, 
with whom she conversed. Her genius was much more than com- 
mon. She had a lively, sprightly imagination, a quick and pene- 
trating discernment and a good judgment. She possessed an un- 
common degree of wit and vivacity ; which yet was consistent with 
pleasantness and good nature ; and she knew how to be facetious 
and sportive, without trespassing on the bounds of decorum, or of 
strict and serious religion. In short, she seemed formed to please, 
and especially to please one of Mr. Burr's taste and character, in 
whom he was exceedingly happy. But what crowned all her ex- 
cellences, and was her chief glory, was Religion. She appear- 
ed to be the subject of divine impressions, when seven or eight 
years old ; and she made a public profession of religion, when 
about fifteen. Her conversation, until her death, was exemplary, 
as becometh godliness." She was, in every respect, an ornament 
to her sex, being equally distinguished for the suavity of her man- 
ners, her literary accomplishments, and her unfeigned regard to re- 
ligion. Her religion did not cast a gloom over her mind, but made 
her cheerful and happy, and rendered the thought of death trans- 
porting. She left a number of manuscripts, on interesting subjects, 
and it was hoped they would have been made public; but they 
are now lost. 

Mrs. Edwards did not long survive her husband. In Septem- 
ber, she set out, in good health, on a journey to Philadelphia, to 
take care of her two orphan grand-children, which were now in 
that city ; and had been, since the death of Mrs. Burr. As they 
had no relations in those parts, Mrs. Edwards proposed to take 
them into her own family. She arrived there, by the way of 
Princeton, Sept. 21, in good health, having had a comfortable 
journey. But, in a few days, she was seized wtth a violent dysen- 
tery, which, on the fifth day, put an end to her life, October 2d, 
1758, in the 49th year of her age. She 'said not much in her 
sickness ; being exercised, most of the time, with violent pain. On 
the morning of the day she died, she apprehended her death was 
near, when she expressed her entire resignation to God, and her 



MRS. SARAH EDWARDS. 331 

desire that he might be glorified in all things ; and that she might 
be enabled to glorify him to the last : and continued in such a tem- 
per, calm and resigned, till she died. 

Her remains were carried to Princeton, and deposited with those 
of Mr. Edwards. Thus they, who were in their lives remarkably 
lovely and pleasant, in their death were not much divided. Here, 
the father and mother, the son and daughter, were laid together in 
the grave, within the space of a little more than a year ; though a 
few months before, their dwelling was more than one hundred and 
fifty miles apart : — two Presidents of the same College, and their 
consorts, than whom, it will doubtless be hard to find four persons, 
more valuable and useful ! 

Note. — This memoir of Mrs. Edwards, is extracted and abridged from The Life 
of President Edwards, by Sereno E. Dwight. Those parts which are marked by- 
quotation points, when not otherwise explained, were taken from The Life of Presi- 
dent Edwards, by Dr. Hopkins. The rest was mostly borrowed from a memoir of 
Mr. Edwards, appended to an edition of Edwards's Life, published at Northampton. 
We are indebted to Dwight's work, merely as a collection of valuable documents, 
which had previously existed in a scattered state. 



332 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 



Mrs. Sarah Osborn, was born in London, on February 22, 
1714. Her father was Mr. Benjamin Haggar. Her mother was 
Mrs. Susanna Haggar, whose maiden name was Guyse. She was 
sister to the Reverend Doctor John Guyse of London. Mrs. Os- 
born came to America, with her mother, in the year 1722, in the 
ninth year of her age, her father having been here for some time be- 
fore. They lived in Boston a short, time, and then moved to Free- 
town, on the east side of Taunton river, near fifty miles south of 
Boston, and above twenty miles from Newport. In the year 1729, 
they moved to Newport on Rhode Island, where she lived till her 
decease. 

The following is an extract from an account of the first thirty years 
of her life, written by herself. 

Having been for some years strongly inclined to write something 
of what I can remember of the dealings of God with my soul from a 
child, I now, being about thirty years old, atttempt to do it; hoping 
it may consist with the glory of God, at which I trust, through grace, 
I sincerely aim : And the good of my own soul, as a msan to stir up 
gratitude in the most ungrateful of all hearts, even mine, to a glori- 
ous and compassionate Savior, for all his benefits towards so vile a 
monster in sin as I am : And for the encouragement of any who may 
providentially light on these lines after my decease, to trust in the 
Lord, and never despair of mercy, since one so stubborn and rebel- 
lious as I have been, has obtained it, through the sovereign riches of 
free grace. But Oh, let all tremble at the thought of abusing a Sav- 
ior so, lest God should say, " Let them alone, they shall never enter 
into my rest." 

Lord, humble me for my base ingratitude; and help me, by af- 
fording me the influences and assistance of thy blessed Spirit, that I 
may be impartial in this work, declaring the truth, and nothing but 
the truth ; and in all that, have a single eye to thy glory. O, for Je- 
sus' sake, suffer me not to do any thing that will tend to puff up self. 
O, remove all spiritual pride, and keep me low at the feet of Jesus. 
Fill me with adoring and admiring thoughts of thee, O God the Fa- 
ther, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, who has so wonderfully 
contrived and wrought out my redemption ; and though thou hast, 
through infinite wisdom, hid these things from the wise and prudent, 
yet hast revealed them unto babes ; and even to me, the most igno- 
rant and vile of all creatures : Whose deep rooted enmity against 
thee and thy laws broke out into action, as soon as I was capable of 
any. The first that I can remember of actual sins, of which I was 



MEMOIRS, &C. 333 

guilty, was telling a lie. And then that text of scripture often rang 
in my ears, "All liars shall have their part in the lake which burnetii 
with fire and brimstone." 

I was frequently under the strivings of the Spirit of God, pressing 
me to forsake sin, and repent and perform duties : But sometimes 
found them very burdensome to me ; such as praying and saying 
many good things, which I was frequently taught. Blessed be God 
for such instructions. Sometimes I loved them, and was much af- 
fected with them : But my corruptions prevailed dreadfully, an an- 
gry temper stirring in me ; especially when corrected by my mother. 
But I acknowledge, to the glory of God, that he preserved such a ten- 
derness of conscience in me, that if at any time rny mother convinced 
me that she did it because it w r as her duty, and for my sin against 
God, I could bear it patiently, and willingly, yea thankfully. 

Thus I continued till I was about seven or eight years old ; when, 
my father being in New England, my mother put me to a boarding 
school, about three miles from London, where every thing was de- 
lightful to me. I was constantly taught things that w T ere religious, 
and they all became sweet to me, so that I verily thought I lived a 
heaven upon earth. O, how sweet were Sabbaths ! And for secret 
prayer, I would not have omitted it for all the world ; nay, the sin of 
omitting it appeared so monstrous, and such a dreadful thing, that I 
dare not lie down without it : In this I was doubtless governed by a 
legal spirit. I was frequently much enlarged in that duty, and used 
to weep much when confessing my sins, and pleading for the pardon 
of them, and for an interest in Christ. The name of Christ was 
sweet to me, and sin appeared more hateful. I often used to re- 
prove others, when guilty of it. But once in particular, I remem- 
ber, when I was at Hertford, where my grandmother lived, and my 
brother with her, a little time before we came to New England, my 
brother did something which I thought was w T icked, and I reproved 
him sharply for it ; but was much perplexed, after I had done it, with 
these words of scripture, " Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam 
out of thine own eye ; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the 
mote out of thy brother's eye." This frighted me exceedingly. I 
thought I was a vile hypocrite, and should never dare to reprove any 
body again. And, I suppose, a hypocrite I was. But at last I told 
my grandmother of it, who encouraged me to go on, telling me it was 
my duty so to do ; and if I was faithful, God would bless me, and 
love me. 

So I continued for a while, as I thought, to delight in the ways of 
holiness. But alas ! alas ! how soon was it over ! My goodness was 
like the morning cloud and the early dew, which soon passeth away ; 
for wlien I was in my ninth year my father sent for my mother and 
me to come to New England to him. And on board the ship I lost 
my good impressions, and grew vile, so that I could then play upon 
the Sabbath. But was convinced of that sin by an accident* which 



334 MEMOIRS OF 

befel me ; or rather what was ordered by infinite wisdom for that end. 
For as I was busy in boiling something for my amusement, I fell into 
the fire with my right hand, and burnt it all over ; which I presently 
thought came justly upon me for playing on the Sabbath day : And I 
was ashamed and sorry I had done so. 

But after this I do not remember any particular conviction for 
some years; but was changeable and inconstant, sometimes quite 
careless, and then more diligent in the performance of prayer. I 
had always, as I thought, a great love for those who I believed were 
good people, especially ministers. My very heart would leap with 
joy, when I could see, or come near enough to touch them. I men- 
tion this as a childish notion, that I took such pleasure in touching 
them. I used to go secretly behind them for that purpose. I thought 
I could do any thing in my power to serve them. 

About two years and an half after we came to Boston, my parents 
moved to Freetown, and I with them. And when I was about thir- 
teen years old, my mother went from thence to Newport on Rhode 
Island, and went to visit Mr. Clap, who gave her a little book of spir- 
itual songs for me, and desired her to give it to me, and tell me that 
it came from one who was a hearty well wisher to my soul. These 
words immediately seized me, and filled me with shame to think 
that one whom I never knew should take such care of my precious 
soul, while I was so careless myself. And from that minute I thought 
I had a grateful love for Mr. Clap, and longed to sit under his minis- 
try. I was then for some time under strong convictions. Had such 
a sense of the hardness of my heart, that I often thought it was im- 
possible for me to be sufficiently awakened by any ordinary means ; 
and prayea 1 that God would do any thing with me, though ever so 
terrible, so that 1 might be driven from my evil courses, and turned 
to God. Some change I thought must be wrought in me, or I should 
never get to heaven ; but after what manner, I knew not. Howev- 
er, I resolved to persist in the way of duty, as I called it, and to for- 
sake my sins, and lead a new life. But, fool that I was, I made res- 
olutions in my own strength, and built upon my own works ; and so 
soon fell again. O, amazing grace, that God should spare such a 
wretch as me, such an abuser of mercy ! 

After this I found myself dead, and to have no heart, as I thought, 
to pray, nor any sweetness in it, when I did. Then, O how I long- 
ed for the return of the spirit of God, imagining he was withdrawn 
from me. Sometimes I did agonize in prayer, and plead with God 
that he would return to me by his Spirit once more. But was often 
answered by these words, " My Spirit shall not always strive with 
man." Then I would beg, and promise that if God would try me 
this once, I would never grieve or resist his Spirit again. O, wretch 
that I was ! thus to lie to the glorious God, who was then striving 
with me, to bring me to his Son ; for I did, 1 did quench his mo- 
tions, and soon forgot my promises. O, deceitful and dreadfully 



MRS. SARAH 0SB0RN. 335 

wicked heart ! who can know it ? Lord, I am amazed at thy patience 
that I am out of hell. 

Sometime after this, contrary to my parents' commands, I got into 
a canoe to paddle about in the river,* and could not get on shore 
again. It being in the night, though the moon shined bright, % I ex- 
pected no other but to be drowned. Once I thought to get out, and 
pull the canoe to the shore ; but I tried first if I could reach the 
bottom with my paddle : and finding I could not, durst not venture. 
Then I could see no probability of escaping death. So I kneeled 
down and prayed, and all my former convictions revived : and the 
sin of disobedience to my parents especially appeared odious. I 
thought that it was just that God should bring me into this distress 
for this sin ; and with great vehemence and self-abhorrence confess- 
ed my sins, with their aggravations before God, pleading for an inte- 
rest in the blood of Christ, and for pardon for his sake, for that, and 
all my other sins. And while I was praying, I felt a secret joy, ver- 
ily believing that I was forgiven, and that Christ had loved me with 
an everlasting love, and that I should be happy with him and longed 
for the time. I was immediately resigned, as I thought, to the will 
of God, quite willing to die, and willing to live ; begging that God 
would dispose of me as most consisted with his glory. Ana 1 after I 
had thus resigned myself, as I thought soul and body into the hands 
of God, to do with me as seemed good to him, I was as calm and 
serene in the temper of my mind, as ever in my life. 

But at length I bethought myself, that self preservation was a 
great duty, and therefore I ought to try to get on shore. So I hallo- 
ed as loud as I could to the neighbors, who with much difficulty 
were made to hear, and came to me some hours after. There was 
not another canoe within two or three miles ; for I had been driven 
by the tide some miles, first up and then down the river. 

How it would have been with my soul, if God had taken me out 
of the world at that time, he only knows. Some christians have 
thought, a saving change was then wrought, and that I should have 
been happy. 

After this, I was more diligent in pursuing, as I thought, the ways 
of holiness in the way God had appointed : and more watchful 
against sin. My life was pleasant and sweet. I had great enlarge- 
ments in duties. But at length grew cold again. O ungrateful soul 
to forget such a remarkable deliverance from death. 

The next winter I was as wonderfully preserved. The weather 
being exceeding cold, the river was frozen, so that people, horses, 
and teams went over on the ice. But while it was hard and slippery, I 
durst not venture on it, for fear of falling. But after a great thaw, 
so that the ice looked quite black, I contrary to my parents' orders 



* The house stood by Taunton river, which was navigable. 



336 MEMOIRS OF 

again, they being from home, went quite over to the other side, which 
was a mile. But the tide was rising, so I could not get on shore : 
and when I looked around me, I could see nothing but great holes, as 
large as houses, or larger, some of them. There was no way for 
me, but to go straight back again ; which I did. But the water was 
almost over shoes all the way ; and the ice, it seemed to me, bent 
every step I took. And when I got back, the water was so risen, 
that I was much beset to get on shore : and it was in the dusk of 
the evening. But at last, with much difficulty, I found a strip of ice 
as narrow as a bridge which reached the shore, by which I got to 
land. But when I had got off, and saw the imminent danger to 
which I had exposed myself, by my folly and presumption, it made 
me tremble exceedingly. I presently thought again, how just God 
would have been, if I had been drowned for my disobedience to my 
parents ; and wondered at his patience in sparing me : But do not 
remember, that I felt any abiding impressions; so great was my wo- 
ful stupidity : though I think I kept on praying, &c. As to the river, 
the wind rose presently, and blew very hard from the south, so that 
it with the tide, broke it up, that before bed time there was not a 
piece of ice of any bigness within sight of our house, which stood 
close by the river. 1 am amazed, when I consider how wonderfully 
God preserved me, a poor sinful worm, so unworthy of the least 
mercy. 

The next March, we removed to Dighton,* where we lived one 
year. I remember but one awakening in that time; and that was by 
hearing of the death of one of my former associates in Freetown, 
a young girl, about my age. 

Then I was again astonished at the patience of God, in sparing 
me alive and out of hell. Then I renewed my resolutions to lead a 
new life. But instead of that, in the spring we moved to Rhode 
Island, where I soon got into company, and was full of vanity. But 
my conscience would not let me be easy. 

After some sore trials and temptations, I was more comfortable, 
and had a great desire, I thought to forsake all sin, and to comply 
with every commanded duty. I longed to join to the church; but 
thought I was unworthy. I thought I thirsted for communion with 
God in the ordinance of the Lord's Supper, and used to think, if I 
came to that, it would certainly be a restraint upon me, so that 1 
should not dare to sin as others did. And when I stayed to see the 
ordinance administered, I used to think I could give all this world, I 
were fit to attend it. My spirit would even sink within me for the 
longings I had. Sometimes I would weep so that I could not con- 
ceal it. One sabbath, I went to hear Mr. Clap preach at his own 
house, where I inclined to go constantly ; but my parents went to 



* A town on the other side of Taunton river. 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 337 

the other meeting, and were not pleased I should go from them : so 
I went but seldom. But at this time there was a girl about fourteen 
years old baptized, which so affected me that I could hardly refrain 
from crying out in the meeting, when I thought how I had broken the 
covenant engagements, which my parents had made with God, in my 
behalf, in my infancy, and so long abused so great a privilege, as 
being a child of the covenant : and she, who had not had so much 
done for her, should now come to desire it herself! I saw, as I 
thought, such a beauty in her, that I loved her entirely, and wished 
to be as as I thought she was. I made new resolutions to live an- 
swerable to the mercies I had received ; but being made in my own 
strength I soon fell again. I thought I trusted in God ; and used 
frequently, in times of trial, to go and pour out my complaints to him 
thinking he was my only support. But I dare not now be positive, 
or really conclude, that I knew what it was to put my trust in God ; 
for my conduct after this seems so inconsistent with grace, that I dare 
not say I had one spark of it then ; but rather think I was only un- 
der a common work of the Spirit : though sometimes 1 think I had 
true grace, though very weak. God only knows how it was. O 
that he would enable me now to give diligence to make my calling 
and election sure, that I may not be deceived in a matter of so 
great importance. But to go on. After this (O that with deep hu- 
mility of soul, with sorrow and shame, I could speak of it) I relap- 
sed again, and was full of vanity. I kept company with a young 
man, something against my parent's will. But that was owing to 
false reports raised of him ; for at first they liked him. I made 
resolutions, that, after I was married, I would lead a new life, flatter- 
ing myself that then I should not have the hinderances which 1 now 
had. I used bitterly to reflect upon myself, when I had given myself 
liberty to be merry ; for though I appeared outwardly so, I had no 
real pleasure : but still put off repentance, or an entire breaking off 
from vanity, till a more convenient season ; and so resisted the Spi- 
rit of God. O Lord, how just hadst thou been, if thou hadst left 
me entirely to myself! and if thou hadst, nothing would have been 
too bad for such a vile wretch as I to have committed. But blessed 
be God, who withheld me from such sins as would have brought me 
to open justice, and exposed myself and family to shame and dis- 
grace. 

In process of time, I was married to Mr. Samuel Wheaton, being 
in my eighteenth year, October 21, 1731, and went with my husband 
the next winter to see his friends in the country ; where I stayed al- 
most five months ; and was almost all the time under strong convic- 
tions. Oh, how I did sweat and tremble for fear my convictions 
should wear off again, and plead with God to set home strong convic- 
tions, and never, never suffer them to cease, till they ended in a 
sound and saving conversion ; till I knew and was sure that I had a 
saving interest in Jesus Christ, and was freely forgiven for his sake ' 

43 



338 MEMOIRS OF 

and this was the substance of my frequent prayers ever after, when 
I could pray at all with earnestness ; that 1 might never rest more, 
till I was sure iny peace was made with God. 

From this time I had a hope again, at times, that Christ was mine. 
But it was some years after before it pleased God to answer it fully, 
by giving me an assurance of it. But then I longed again for the 
ordinance of the Lord's supper, though sometimes shocked by that 
awful text, " He who eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and 
drinketh damnation to himself." But resolved at last, if I lived to 
get home, I would venture, in obedience to the commandment of 
Christ ; and throw myself into the arms of mercy. I longed to 
commemorate the death and sufferings of a crucified Jesus. 1 thought 
nothing should tempt me to delay any longer. But, oh my sinful 
soul, must I yet add to the number of thy backslidings 1 Could not 
the time past suffice, that thou hadst provoked a compassionate God I 
Was it not enough, and more than enough, that thou hadst rebelled 
so long against a glorious Christ, and grieved his blessed Spirit ! But 
must I go on again, after such awakenings as these, which one would 
have thought impossible ! But, oh deceitful heart, thou didst, thou 
didst! Lord, I blush and am ashamed, when I remember my noto- 
rious ingratitude. O break this heart of flint, dearest Lord, that it 
may melt into tears of contrition : And never suffer me to forgive 
myself, because thou hast forgiven me. 

After I came home, I met with much affliction in many respects. 
It seemed to me that the whole world were in arms against me. I 
thought I was the most despised creature living upon earth. I used 
to pray to God in secret to relieve me ; but did not, as I ought, see 
his hand in permitting it so to be, as a just punishment for my vile 
sins : and therefore was not humbled under it as I ought ; but let 
nature rise, and acted very imprudently, in many respects. I was 
then with child, and often lamented that I was like to bring a child 
into such a world of sorrow : but sometimes found a disposition to 
dedicate my babe to God, while in the womb ; and did so at all sea- 
sons of secret prayer. And, after it was born, my husband being at 
sea, I could not rest till I had solemnly given it up to God in baptism. 
And I thought that I did indeed give up both myself and it to God. 

I met with many trials in my lying in, it being an extreme cold 
season. My child was born on Oct. 27, 1732. The next spring, 
my husband returned home ; but went to sea again, and died abroad 
in November, 1733. I was then in my twentieth year. The news 
of my husband's death came to me on the first of the next April. 
And I was prepared the evening before to receive it, by being un- 
commonly exercised in my mind about spiritual things: and that text 
in Hebrews was continually in my thoughts, " How shall we escape, 
if we neglect so great salvation ?" This put me upon pleading with 
God, that I might not be found among the neglecters of it. I went 
to bed in a house all alone, my ehild being at my father's. And 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 339 

about eleven or twelve o'clock at night was awaked to hear the 
heaw tidings. But God appeared wonderfully for my support. I 
saw his hand, and was enabled to submit with patience to his will. 
I daily looked rouud me, to see how much heavier the hand of God 
was laid on some others, than it was on me, where they were left 
with a large number of children, and much involved in debt. And 
I had but one to maintain ; and, though poor, yet not involved. Oth- 
ers, I saw, as well as myself, had their friends snatched from them 
by sudden accidents. The consideration of these things, together 
with the thoughts of what I deserved, stilled me so, that though the 
loss of my companion, whom I dearly loved, was great; yet the veins 
of mercv, which I saw running through all my afflictions, were so 
great likewise, that, with Job, I could say, "The Lord gave, and the 
Lord hath taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord." I 
had then the promises of the widow's God to plead, and seemed to 
cast myself more immediately upon his care, verily believing, as I 
thought, he would provide for me, with my fatherless babe ; for whom 
I often pleaded for covenant blessings, since he had been cast upon 
God from the womb. 

O, how much comfort do those parents lose, who never gave their 
children up to God in baptism in their infancy ! And how sad for 
children themselves to be deprived of the privilege of pleading with 
God for covenant blessings ! My being dedicated to God in my in- 
fancy always put an argument into my mouth, to beg of God that I 
might not cut myself off, since I was a child of the covenant, and 
from a child given to him in baptism. But, to return : 

As before this affliction every one seemed to be enemies to me, 
so from that time, all became friends. My parents treated me very 
tenderly ; and God inclined every one who saw me to be kind to 
me. My brother was come into New England : and being a single 
man, we went to housekeeping together. But in three months after 
he married, and I soon found it would not do to live as before ; and 
began to be thoughtful how I should do. I could see no way in 
which I could get a living. All doors seemed to be shut. But I 
verily believed that God would point out a way for me. And accord- 
ingly, the very day I came to a resolution to move as soon as I could, 
a stranger to my case, who kept a school a little way off, came to me, 
and told me that she only waited for a fair wind to go to Carolina ; 
and, if it would suit me, I should have her chamber and scholars ; 
which I joyfully accepted. Thus the widow's God remarkably pro- 
vided for me. This was on Nov. 19, 1734. I was then placed in 
a family, who discovered a great deal of affection for me ; and in all 
respects used me as tenderly as if I had been a near relation. 

It pleased God the next May to lay his afflicting hand on me, by a 
sharp humor, which broke out in my hands, so that, for three months, 
every finger I had was wrapped in plasters ; and I could help myself 
but very little, and was under the doctor's hands. In the fall I was 



340 MEMOIRS OF 

taken with violent fits, and was quite deprived of sense by them five 
days. I was blistered almost all over by the doctor ; and my hands 
and arms were all raw, from my fingers' ends, up above my elbows, 
attended with a high fever. But all my friends were exceedingly 
kind to me, and those in the house took care of me, and of my chil- 
dren too ; so that my school was not broken up, till I was able to 
take care of it myself again. But the sharp humor continued very 
violent, at times, for some years: and still continues at some seasons. 
But, in all this time of illness, God wonderfully provided for me. I 
wanted for none of the comforts of life : neither was I cast down ; 
for his mercy held me up. 

The instances of the remarkable hand of God in his providence, 
in ordering my temporal affairs, are innumerable. But, oh vile 
wretch ! after all this I grew slack again, and got into a cold, lifeless 
frame. As I grew better in bodily health, my soul grew sick. I 
daily laid up a stock for repentance. But, through rich grace, I was 
again convinced of my stupidity, and began to be more diligent in 
attending on the means of grace. But I found I could not profit by 
the w T ord preached : nothing reached my heart; all seemed but skin 
deep : and the more I went to meeting the more I found it so. Then 
I began to think I must take some other course. 

Not long after I went to hear Mr. Clap ; who told me the very 
secrets of my heart in his sermon, as plain as I could have told them 
to him, and indeed more so. His sermon was very terrible to me. 
My sins, from my cradle, were ranked in order before my eyes, and 
they appeared dreadful. I saw the depravity of my nature ; and how 
I had stifled the motions of the blessed Spirit of God, and resisted 
all the kind invitations of a compassionate Savior. I was heart-sick 
of all my works. And as it had been often suggested to me, I be- 
lieve from Satan, that it was time enough for me to repent hereafter, 
it was now strongly impressed on my mind, that it was now too late 
for me to find mercy. Once I might have had Christ ; but now my 
day was past. And it was suggested that I had committed the unpar- 
donable sin ; because I had sinned against light and knowledge, even 
against the convictions of my own conscience. This I knew I had 
done ; and therefore believed I had committed that sin which could 
never be forgiven. 

But, O ! what shall I say, or how, with gratitude enough, express 
the wonderful goodness of that God, who preserved me, even when 
I was, in my own apprehension, upon the very brink of hell, welter- 
ing in my blood ; when no eye pitied me, and no created arm could 
save me : Even then did he spread his skirt over me, and said to me, 
Live. After I had been near a week in this distress, my very soul 
racked with fear of what I must undergo to all eternity, those words, 
" Depart from me" sounding in my ears, and I uttering the language 
of hell, " There is no hope ! There is no help ! The door of mercy 
is shut against me forever !" all at once, I was alarmed with these 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 341 

thoughts, which seemed to be conveyed to my mind in the following 
words. . " Who has told you, that your day of grace is over ? Are 
not the doors of the meeting house open ? Cannot you hear the 
offers of salvation ? Have you not your Bible to read ? And you 
may pray : therefore, you see your external day of grace is not over. 
And how do you know but you may yet obtain mercy ! It is the 
devil who has suggested all this to you ; and he is a liar from the 
beginning." I was then convinced, that it was the devil who had 
been tempting me to despair of the mercy of God, which I did not 
perceive before, but verily thought what he suggested to me was 
true, viz. That there was no hope for me. 

After I saw that I was tempted by Satan to despair, and knowing 
that he was a liar, I began, for a few minutes, to have some glim- 
mering of hope that it might possibly be, that Christ would receive 
me, because he had spared me hitherto, on this side the grave, and 
out of hell. Who knows, thought I, but I may yet be a child of 
God. Immediately upon these thoughts, I was furiously assaulted 
with new temptations by Satan, I believe, not to flatter myself with 
the thought that I should be a child of God ; for I was not elected, 
and therefore could not be saved. Besides, God did not leave his 
children to be tempted by him, as I had been. I might be sure, if 
I was one of God's chosen, he would not have suffered me to be 
tempted so; but I belonged to Satan, and he was sure of- me. And 
I, like a fool, yielded to these suggestions, and at once cast off my 
hope again, verily believing it was impossible that I could ever be a 
child of God. Now I was brought to the greatest extremity, and 
plunged into as deep an agony as ever. 1 saw myself utterly lost 
without a Christ. I thought I could have suffered all the torments 
in the world for an interest in Christ. If 1 could have purchased 
him by doing any thing, though ever so hard, I should then have 
thought it nothing. But oh, base, proud, unbelieving heart! I could 
not take him freely, upon his own terms; because, though I had no 
doubt that he was able to save me ; yet I could not see him willing 
to receive so vile a wretch. In this dreadful agony, I opened my 
Bible, and the first words I cast my eye upon were these : 1 Cor. 
x. 13. "There hath no temptation taken you, but such as is com- 
mon to man : But God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be 
tempted above that you are able ; but will, with the temptation, also 
make a way for your escape, that ye may be able to bear it." These 
words were accompanied with those powerful influences of the spirit 
of God, which excited in me a sense of the excellence, glory and 
truth of God, and I had a pleasing confidence and rest in the divine 
faithfulness, and embraced the promises in these words. As it is 
not possible for me to express the greatness of the distress, in which 
I was before ; so it is as much impossible for me to make any one 
sensible of the joy, with which I was instantly filled by this gracious 
promise; except those who experimentally know what it is; for God 



342 MEMOIRS OF 

was pleased, at that moment, to give me faith to lay hold on it. O, 
how did it fill my heart and mouth with praises, and my eyes with 
floods of tears ! I was humbled to the dust, and amazed, as I para- 
phrased upon every branch of the text. It surprised, and comforted 
me too, to find that there had no temptation taken me, but such as 
is common to man, when but a few minutes before I had been think- 
ing that none had ever been tempted as I was. But as I perused 
the other part, viz. That God was faithful, and would not suffer me 
to be tempted above that I was able ; but would, with the tempta- 
tion, make a way for me to escape, that I might be able to bear it; 
my transport of joy was so great, that it was more than my poor 
feeble frame was able to sustain ; for my nature even fainted with 
excessive joy. Then I saw Christ not only able, but willing to re- 
ceive me ; and could freely trust my soul in his hands. 

Thus I continued for some time, rejoicing and resolving, by assist- 
ing grace, to press forward, and by all means to make my calling and 
election sure. Then I wrote my experience to be communicated to 
the church ; and I was admitted, February 6, 1737, to partake of 
that holy ordinance of the Lord's Supper. But it is impossible for 
me to express the ecstacy of joy I was in, when I saw myself there, 
who was by nature a child of wrath, an heir of hell, and by practice 
a rebel against God, a resister of his grace, a piercer of the lovely 
Jesus, unworthy of the crumbs that fall ; yet, through free grace, 
compelled to come in, and partake of children's bread. It was in- 
deed sweet to me to feed by faith on the broken body of my dear- 
est Lord. Surely it did humble me to the dust and filled me with 
self abhorrence, as I meditated on his sufferings and death, and knew 
my sins to be the procuring cause. But when I came to take the 
cup, and by faith to apply the precious properties of the blood of 
Christ to my soul, the veil of unbelief seemed to drop off, and I was 
forced to cry out, "My Lord, and my God," when I beheld the hole 
in his side, and the prints of the nails. And I could not but, in the 
words of Peter, appeal to him, " Lord, thou knowest all things, thou 
knowest that I love thee." O then I was admitted, with the beloved 
disciple, to lean on his breast ! O, what a feast is this, when inti- 
mate communion with the glorious God is thus obtained ! When 
strong covenant engagements with him are renewed ; I being assured 
that he was my God, and giving myself, body and soul, to him for- 
ever, and rejoicing in him as my only portion forevermore. Surely, 
I thought, I could never enough adore the lovely Jesus for appoint- 
ing such an ordinance as this. 

But I cease to say any more of this ; for it is impossible for me 
to describe the thousandth part of what I then felt. O, that I could 
always live as one who had thus been on the mount with God ! The 
next morning I was as much refreshed by meditating on the 32d 
psalm, from the first verse to the end of the fifth. This caused me 
yet more to adore distinguishing grace, and even to be swallowed up 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 343 

with love to the immaculate Lamb ; and resolve more and more, 
with full purpose of heart, to cleave to the Lord. The frequent 
language of my soul was this, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? 
And there is none upon earth that I desire besides thee." 

I could not avoid, when there was opportunity for it, expressing 
my love and thankfulness to God, for snatching me as a brand out 
of the burning : and when I did this once to my mother, with tears 
of joy running down my cheeks, she said to me, " Ah, child, you 
will not always find your love thus flaming to the blessed Jesus. 
After a while you will be more cool again.*' But I hastily answered, 
too much like Peter, It was impossible I could be such a monster for 
ingratitude. But she told me, she did not mean that I should in 
reality love him less, but compared the first espousals of a soul to 
Christ, with that of a husband and wife, which was generally attend- 
ed with more fondness and joy, than afterwards, though the love 
might be the same, or stronger. 

I continued to go on my way rejoicing for some time, without 
knowing what it was to be deserted one hour together, or entirely to 
lose sensible communion with God in any duty or special ordinance, 
or ever to lie down without God ; or to awake without some sweet 
and refreshing portion of the word of God in my thoughts. My very 
sleep was filled with pleasant thoughts of divine things. Surely I 
enjoyed some foretaste of heaven at this season. 

These were happy days. But now how shall I speak ! Oh that 
I may do it with a heart truly broken for my sins ! After all this, I 
began to grow more conformed to the world. Things which, when 
I was thus lively, appeared insipid, and indeed odious to me, began 
to grow more tolerable, and by degrees in a measure pleasant. And 
depraved nature and Satan together pleaded for them thus, " That 
there was a time for all things; and singing and dancing now and then, 
with .a particular friend, was an innocent diversion. Who did I see, 
besides myself, so precise and strict ? Other christians allowed them- 
selves in such things, who, I had reason to think, were far superior 
to me in grace ; especially one with whom I was very intimate. Sure, 
if it was sin, she would not allow herself in it. It was for extraordi- 
nary christians, such as ministers, and others who were eminent for 
piety, to avoid the practice of such things, and not for me. Who did 
I think I was, that I should pretend to outdo other christians? They 
could talk of worldly things. What ailed me ?" Thus the devil and 
carnal reasoning argued me out of a great part of my resolutions for 
strict godliness ; and, in short, made me, in a sort, believe that it was 
only pride and hypocrisy, and to be seen of men, that had ever made 
me pretend to it. 

Thus I sunk by degrees lower and lower, till I had at last almost 
lost all sense of my former experiences. I had only the bare re- 
membrance of them, and they seemed like dreams or delusion, at 
some times. At others again, I had some revivals. I still constantly 



344 



MEMOIRS OF 



attended the means of grace, and Sabbaths were sometimes very 
sweet to me. At times I had access to the throne of grace, and 
obtained some communion with God, and resolved to be more cir- 
cumspect, and renewed my covenant engagements with God. But I 
knew I was a dreadful backslider, and had dealt treacherously with 
God, and sometimes dare not with any boldness, look up to him j 
guilt would stop my mouth. At other times gracious invitations to 
backsliders to return, would revive me. Thus I continued, for a 
great while, sometimes revived, and sometimes sunk, and dejected. 
In September, 1740, God in mercy sent his dear servant White- 
field here, which in some measure stirred me up. But when Mr. 
Tennent came soon after, it pleased God to bless his preaching so to 
me, that it roused me. But I was all the winter after exercised with 
dreadful doubts and fears about my state. I questioned the truth of 
all I had experienced, and feared I had never yet passed through the 
pangs of the new birth, or ever had one spark of grace. And what 
confirmed this to me, my dear aged pastor, Mr. Clap, frequently 
preached, that they who had real grace had growing grace. This 
used to make me tremble, because I could not perceive my growth; 
but thought I rather went back, and grew worse. Thus I was cover- 
ed over with thick clouds for months together. Oh, the dreadful 
fruits of backsliding ! At last, I applied to Mr. Clap, and begged 
of him, that if he knew of any thing which I had left undone, by 
what I had told him, or wrote for my admission into the church, he 
would let me know it, that the mistake might be rectified before it is 
too late. I was indeed possessed with the thought, that he saw so 
clearly into my state, that he knew I was a hypocrite, though I did 
not till then. I told him of this. But he said, he never thought so ; 
and put me upon renewing covenant engagements with God, and 
giving myself up to him then; and perhaps I should find I had done 
so before. This I endeavored to do, and did get some relief; but 
was not yet satisfied. The tokens of a woful backslider were upon 
me. I had forsaken my first love, and God justly deserted me. 
Sometimes that text would refresh me, " Return, ye backsliding 
children, and I will heal your backslidings." My heart would an- 
swer, " Behold I come unto thee ; for thou art the Lord my God." 
And sometimes that passage, "I, even I am he, that blotteth out thy 
transgressions, and as a cloud thy sins : Return unto me ; for I have 
redeemed thee." But yet all this time I could not get clear of 
doubts ; but thought such dreadful formality and hypocrisy, as I per- 
ceived to be in my heart, could not consist with grace. I labored 
along thus all the winter, unresolved how the case stood between God 
and my soul : and an uncomfortable dreadful life it was. At some 
times I was so covered with darkness, that I seemed to be sure I had 
not one spark of grace : at other times afraid of ingratitude, afraid 
to deny what God had done for my soul. Oh, these were the dread- 
ful fruits of backsliding, and losing my first love ! The Lord in 
mercy preserve me, that I may never do so any more ! 



MRS. SARAH 0SB0RN. 345 

I continued thus till March, 1741. And then it pleased God to 
return Mr. Tennent to us again, and he preached twenty one sermons 
here. But while he was here, I was more than ever distressed. I 
had lost the sensible manifestations of Christ's love. I had no more 
but a bare remembrance of some things, which I had experienced ; 
and yet I was afraid to draw up a conclusion, one way or the other. 
I applied to Mr. Tennent, and he discoursed very suitably with me. 
But still I was not quiet, but exceedingly distressed. 

I had some light and refreshment under his preaching the next 
day; but my darkness returned again, and 1 sunk very low. I was 
so afraid of presumption, that I dare not conclude my state was good. 
And he struck directly at those things, for which I had so foolishly 
and wickedly pleaded christian example, such as singing songs, dan- 
cing, and foolish jesting, which is not convenient. He said, he would 
not say there was no such thing as a dancing christian, but he had a 
very mean opinion of such as could bear to spend their time so, when 
it is so short, and the work for eternity so great. Then, and not till 
then, was I fully convinced what prodigal wasters of precious time 
such things were. And, through grace, I have abhorred them all 
ever since. And to the glory of God be it spoken ; for it is only 
from his sovereign wonderful goodness to me. 

I still continued in very dark and melancholy circumstances, be- 
tween hope and fear, afraid to conclude one way or the other. And 
having no opportunity to speak with Mr. Tennent again, I wrote to 
him as well as I could, briefly relating what I had experienced, and 
begged of him to try it by scripture rules, and judge of it according- 
ly, and give me his opinion; that I might not sin by denying the grace 
of God, if I had it, nor speak peace to my soul, if God did not. To 
which he returned the following answer. 

"My dear friend, — I like your experiences well. They seem to 
me to be scriptural and encouraging ; and I think you may humbly 
take comfort from them, and give God the glory of his pure grace. 
They who have been so humbled and distressed for sin, as to be 
divorced from the governing love and practice of it ; and have been 
by the Spirit of God made willing to embrace the Redeemer delib- 
erately, unreservedly, and resolutely, upon his own terms, have a 
sure interest in the great salvation. John i. 12. To as manv as re- 
ceived him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even 
to them that believe on his name. And whatever involuntary defects 
they are guilty of, they shall not break the everlasting covenant be- 
tween God and their souls. Though they have played the harlot with 
many lovers ; yet they may return to their first husband. Though 
God may hide his face for a moment, yet with everlasting loving 
kindness will he return. Though they be sometimes easily beset 
with sin ; yet he, who was the author, will be the finisher of their 
faith. I add no more but love, and remain, your real friend, 

March 22, 1741. G. T." 

44 



346 MEMOIRS OF 

I have transcribed this letter, that, if Providence should ever cast 
these lines into the hands of any in like circumstances, it may, if the 
Lord will, have the same happy effect on them, as, by the blessing 
of God, it had on me; which was this — The letter itself was exceed- 
ing sweet and refreshing ; but the precious texts of scripture, which 
w T ere quoted, were so powerfully set home on my mind, that they 
scattered all my clouds immediately, and I was as one restored from 
the grave. Then with life and courage I again renewed my written 
covenant engagements with God, and became more lively and zeal- 
ous for God than ever. O the amazing goodness of God to me ! I 
have heard of some christians who never recover such backslidings 
all their days. But I have not since lost my evidences of grace. 
Though I have been sometimes under desertion, yet I could frequent- 
ly say, " Why art thou cast down, O my soul, and why art thou dis- 
quieted within me ? Hope in God, for I shall yet praise him, who is 
the light of my countenance, and my God." 

After I was thus revived, my longings to be made useful in the 
world returned, and I earnestly pleaded with God that he would not 
suffer me to live any longer an unprofitable servant ; but would point 
out some way, in which I might be useful : And that I might now 
be as exemplary for piety, as I had been for folly. And it pleased 
God so to order it, that I had room to hope my petitions were both 
heard, and in a measure answered. For soon after this a number 
of young women, who were awakened to a concern for their souls, 
came to me, and desired my advice and assistance, and proposed to 
join in a society, provided I would take the care of them. To which, 
I trust with a sense of my own unworthiness, I joyfully consented. 
And much sweetness we enjoyed in these meetings. (And blessed 
be God, they are yet kept up.) 

About this time it pleased God to lay his afflicting hand upon me 
by the removal of my only brother by death. As to the loss of his 
person, I found I could quietly submit, and say, " The Lord gave, 
and he has taken away, and blessed be the name of the Lord." But 
I had a sinful curiosity to know how it was with his precious soul : 
And being filled with fear about it, I was very much dejected. But 
I knew my curiosity was sinful. And I pleaded earnestly with God, 
that he would not suffer me to pry into the secrets of his will ; but 
give me a quiet submission. I continued wrestling with God for re- 
signation to his will, till about two o'clock in the morning, and then 
I went to bed, still begging that I might never spend another day un- 
resigned. And just about break of day I awaked with the following 
words strongly impressed on my mind, " Secret things belong unto 
God, but those which are revealed belong unto us. The will of 
God is done, the will of God is done." These words quieted me, 
so that I arose as cheerful, composed and thankful, as if I had met 
with no affliction at all, and I think more so ; and never did from 
that hour, nor could mourn as I had done. This I considered as a 
remarkable answer to prayer. 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 347 

After this my business failed, and 1 found I could not keep my 
room where I lived ; and which way to turn I knew not. But was 
persuaded God would point out some way for me. I had several of- 
fers to go into the country to keep school in creditable families, where 
I had a prospect of wanting for nothing of the necessaries of this 
life. But I could not bear the thought of going from the means of 
grace, and other precious privileges, which 1 then enjoyed. And 
the society of young women often entreated me not to leave them. 
I had double ties every way, and knew not what to do. But I w r as 
not distressed, believing God would provide for me. Accordingly he 
did so; though by an afflictive dispensation. It pleased him to re- 
move a dear friend by death, with whom I was very intimate. Her 
husband was a very sober good sort of a man, and wanted me to 
keep his shop for my board, and wash for myself. This offer suited 
me very well ; for hereby I was not likely to be deprived of any of 
my religious privileges. So on the first day of July, I went there to 
live,, and indeed had much comfort. Dear Mr. Clap met with the 
society at his house twice every week, which I constantly attended ; 
and religion seemed to be the chief business of my life. Had much 
comfort in all the duties of religion, public, private, and secret: And 
had as much time to spend in them as I could desire. 

About this time I had the offer of a second marriage, with one 
who appeared to be a real christian (and 1 could not think of being 
unequally yoked with one who was not such.) I took the matter 
into serious consideration. I foresaw there were difficulties which I 
must unavoidably encounter ; and many duties would be incumbent 
on me, to which 1 had been a stranger : particularly, in my being a 
mother in-law to three sons, which my proposed husband had by a 
first wife. But after weighing all circumstances, as well as I could, 
in my mind, and earnest prayer which God enabled me to continue 
in for some time, I concluded it was the will of God, that I should 
accept of the offer, and was accordingly married to Mr. Henry Os- 
born, on the 5th day of May, 1742. 

The next July after I was married, I went with an intimate friend, 
to Little Compton, on purpose to join in a fast which was appointed 
there to implore the outpouring of the Spirit of God on that place ; 
which was attended with much solemnity. The next day which was 
the twenty ninth day of the month, my friend and I were riding to a 
private religious meeting, and my horse stumbled and threw me over 
his head. My stomach came first to the ground ; and yet was com- 
paratively but little hurt ; and close by the spot where my .head 
came was a large rock, which must in all probability, have ended 
my days, if I had fallen upon it. This gave me a sense of the 
goodness of God in preserving me. I got safe to the house to 
which I proposed to go. And in the evening Mr. Tyler preached a 
sermon, which greatly affected the people, who were under concern, 
before : but they with much difficulty kept silence, till the sermon 



348 MEMOIRS QF 

and prayer were ended ; and then cried out in vehement agonies, 
lamenting their lost condition without a Savior, and pleading with 
God to have mercy on them, and give them an interest in Christ. 
At this time I had an awful sense of the state of the damned, who 
were crying out under their torments ; but past remedy. 

Then a number of young women with myself withdrew into a 
chamber, in order to form a religious society. There we spent 
some time in praying, reading, conversing and singing. At the same 
time a company of young men were engaged in another room in the 
same exercises. We happened to sing in both rooms at the same 
time. The melody was very sweet, and gave me lively apprehen- 
sions of the glorious employment, and blessed enjoyment of the 
saints in the New Jerusalem ; and filled my soul with adoring 
thoughts of God. 

But in my return to the place where I lodged, it being late in the 
night, we were overtaken in the most awful storm of thunder and 
lightning that I ever heard or saw. During the terrible claps of 
thunder my horse stood trembling ; and as soon as they ceased, ran with 
full speed. I was then filled with a greater sense of the awfulness and 
majesty of a God, than I had ever experienced before ; and more 
realizing thoughts of the solemnity of the last day. I did not im- 
agine that was the time ; but thought it a great resemblance of it. 
And I expected every moment to be called to appear before my 
judge, either by the thunder and lightning or a fall from my horse. 
This put me upon examining myself, to see where the foundation of 
my hope was laid ; and whether I had real grace, and a sure inte- 
rest in Christ that he might then be my advocate. I earnestly plea- 
ded that this might be my very case. Upon strict search I found 
such evidence as kept me from all fears of hell. Though I did not 
then feel the manifestations of the love of God, as at some other 
times ; yet I found Christ was my only refuge. But just after the 
last hard clap of thunder, my horse turning suddenly round a corner, 
threw me off backward. My right temple came first to the ground. 
As I fell, I committed my spirit into the hands of my Savior, expec- 
ting death : but was wonderfully preserved ; so that I was but little 
hurt. Thus God shewed me, in this day and night of large experi- 
ence, what he could do with me in a way of judgment ; and what 
for me, in a way of mercy, in preserving me, when in imminent 
danger of death. Lord, for thine own name's sake, write a law of 
gratitude in my heart for this, with all my other mercies. O Lord, 
what am I, the chief of sinners, that thou art thus mindful of me ! 

Soon after this, we fell into disagreeable and difficult worldly cir- 
cumstances, with respect to living and paying the debts we owed. 
My greatest concern was with respect to the latter, lest we should 
not be able to do justice, and so wrong our creditors, and bring dis- 
honor on God, and our profession. Under this pressure and distress, 
I was relieved and supported by the following words of Scripturej 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 349 

" Let your conversation be without covetousness ; and be content 
with such things as ye have ; for he hath said, I will never leave 
thee, nor forsake thee." I lived cheerfully, upon this promise, for a 
considerable time. And God ordered things so that our creditors 
were paid to their satisfaction. 

I have often thought God has so ordered it throughout my days 
hitherto, that I should be in an afflicted, low condition, as to worldly 
circumstances, and inclined the hearts of others to relieve me in 
all my distresses, on purpose to suppress that pride of my nature, 
which doubtless would have been acted out greatly to his dishonor, 
had I enjoyed health, and had prosperity so as to live independent of 
others. I will therefore think it best for me ; for the tenderness of 
my friends to me, has always had a tendency to humble me greatly, 
and cause me to admire the goodness of God to me, that while 
others were daily complaining, that the rich have many friends, but 
the poor is despised by his neighbor, I could never say 1 had not as 
much love and respect showed me, as if I possessed great riches, 
and that by the rich, as well as the poor. So that, on the account of 
my poverty I never was despised. 

And now I have, according to my desire, committed some of the 
many thousands of my experiences to writing. And I will give my 
reasons for doing it. The first motive, as I mentioned in the intro- 
duction was, that I might be excited to praise and glorify that God 
who has wrought such wonders for me. And through the influence 
of his blessed Spirit, moving me thereto, it has had this effect, in 
some measure, throughout the time of my writing it. The Lord 
grant I may continue so all my days ; and then my first great end 
will be answered. Secondly, 

I have always reaped much benefit myself, by reading the lives 
and experiences of others. Sometimes they have been blessed to 
convince me of sin — sometimes, to scatter doubts — and sometimes, 
to raise my affections into a flame. When expressions have been 
warm, they have put me upon imitating them as well as I could, by 
"breathing out my soul in like manner. And though 1 fall ever so 
short of the excellencies with which others have been endowed ; yet 
I know all things are possible with God. He can bless a word from 
the weakest, meanest, and unworthiest of all creatures, even me. 
If a word in these lines ever prove useful to one soul,' after my de- 
cease, it will be ten thousand times more than I deserve from the 
hands of a bountiful God : To him alone be all the glory. It is his 
glory, I trust, through rich grace, at which I sincerely aim. And if 
it does not consist with that, to have these lines seen by any, either 
before or after my decease, I heartily desire, so far as I can possibly 
fathom that unfathomable deep, my own deceitful heart, and know it 
that they may be all buried in oblivion. Surely, I had rather my 
name, and all belonging to me, should be forgotten among men, than 
remembered to the dishonor of my God. J am an ignorant short 



350 MEMOIRS OF 

sighted creature : but God knows what will be for the best. To him 
I commit it, praying that in his allwise providence, it may be dispo- 
sed of as he sees meet. 

N. B. Finished writing this Dec. 18, 1743, in the 30th year of 
my age." 

The parents of Mrs. Osborn were never in affluent worldly cir- 
cumstances ; and had little or nothing to give to her when she marri- 
ed : And perhaps did not give her all the assistance which they were 
able to do, as they were not pleased with her marrying to the person 
whom she chose. He was young, and a seaman and had nothing be- 
forehand, and died in the second voyage after he was married, and 
she was left a poor widow with one young child before she was twenty 
years old. She continued a widow more than eight years. In which 
time she did no more than just support herself and son, by her indus- 
try, in keeping a small school part of the time ; which business she 
was at length, obliged to relinquish, by sickness, in which she needed 
and had the assistance of some of her kind friends. Thus she continu- 
ed a poor widow, till she married the second time, in the twenty 
ninth year of her age. 

Her second husband was in some trade and business when she 
married him ; but soon appeared to owe to his creditors more than he 
was able to pay. They gave up all they had, and their creditors were 
paid, so that they were all made easy, and gave them a discharge. 
From that time he did but little or no business, by reason of bodily 
disorders, and other infirmities. At the same time he had children 
who were poor, and wanted assistance. In these circumstances, 
Mrs. Osborn began to keep school again in May, 1744. In which 
business she continued about thirty years, till her eyesight and bodily 
strength failed, so that she was obliged to give it up. She was, during 
this whole time, attended with bodily weakness, pains and infirmities; 
her constitution being greatly injured by taking mercury in an improp- 
er manner and degree, which was prescribed by her physician when 
afflicted with the distressing disorder, which she mentions in the ac- 
count she has given of her life, the weakening and painful effects of 
which attended her to the day of her death. Under these disorders, 
which were at times very distressing, she persevered in her business, 
which in her circumstances required a diligence, circumspection and 
resolution, which have been equalled by few or none, until she lost 
her sight and strength, to such a degree as obliged her to desist. 

For this space of about thirty years she presided in a school, which 
was most of the time so large that she was obliged to employ assistants. 
The whole number of children in her school amounted sometimes to 
seventy or more, some of whom, at times eight or ten, she boarded. 

But, having a considerable family of her own to maintain, and other 
dependents which she thought it her duty to help, and the price for 
schooling and boarding being low, she, through this whole time, was 
not able to lay up any thing ; but was reduced to great straits and 



MRS. SARAH OSRORN. 351 

difficulties ; and at the end of the year she frequently found herself 
in the rear, rather than to have gained any overplus or stock for the 
next ; this kept her in a constant state of peculiar trial, and tempta- 
tion to worldly solicitude and anxiety, which required an uncommon 
degree of faith and piety to surmount. And sometimes, under the 
darkest sppearances, her faith would so far fail that she would sink 
into gloom and dejection, especially in the former part of this time. 
But she evidently made advances in her faith and cheerful resignation 
to the divine will, and happy contentment with the allotments of Di- 
vine Providence, while her trials and worldly straits, continued as 
great as ever : So that she appeared, at length, to have got the victory 
over the world to an uncommon degree, and to have enjoyed a calm, 
sweet resignation and contentment in her worldly circumstances, which 
was the source of high religious enjoyment, in the constant and strong 
exercise of that piety, by which she enjoyed God as her only and 
eternal portion. This appears from her diary ; and was especially 
manifest to her intimate friends, after she was obliged to give up all 
business, and was wholly dependent on her friends for support; of 
which a more particular account will be given, before these memoirs 
are finished. 

Mrs. Osborn began to keep school the second time, as has been 
observed, in the month of May, 1744, in the thirty first year of her age. 
With respect to which some things are noted in her diary, which may 
be properly transcribed here. 

" Saturday, April 28, 1744. — This day I am determined, if the 
Lord will, to enter again into the calling of keeping school. Will the 
Lord in mercy bless my endeavors, and prosper the work of my hands, 
and overrule this for his own glory, by making me instrumental in pro- 
moting the good of souls. O Lord, if thou wilt again employ me, 
and make me faithful, my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness. 
Oh, preserve me from making dependence on any thing I can do, ei- 
ther for soul or body : But if it may consist with thy will, O bless me 
in this lawful undertaking. But above all, O Lord, go on to resign 
me to thy will. Not mine, but thine be done. Lord, I desire to 
leave it with thee. O undertake for me, and deal graciously with 
me, for thine own sake, as thou usest to do to those who love thy name. 
Help me to eye thee in all thy dispensations of providence, and be 
thankful to thee for every temporal mercy. Dear Lord, order it so 
that thine own honor may be secured, and thou mayest be glorified in 
me, and it is enough. Once more, I beg to be resigned, and to take 
all things well at thy dear hand. Whether thou smile or frown, let 
me bless and love ; for this is my duty, and what thou justly expectest 
of me. Lord, thou art worthy of infinitely more love and praise than 
I am capable of giving : But oh, accept my attempts to love and praise, 
for Jesus's sake alone. In his name I come to thee for all blessings, 
spiritual and temporal. 



352 MEMOIRS OF 

" Thursday, May 10. — I desire to record it with thankfulness, thai 
God in his providence gave me an opportunity last evening to advise 
with my dear aged pastor (Mr. Clap) about praying with my scholars. 
He rejoiced much in the proposal ; and advised me, by all means, to 
proceed, and let nothing discourage me, and fear no scoffs ; for it 
was* God's cause, and he who put it into my heart to do it, would 
take care of his own glory. He likewise reminded me how highly 
Christ resented it, when his own disciples would have deprived little 
children of privileges. He advised me to be brief and plain, and 
often to mention those words in Matt. vi. "Ask, and ye shall re- 
ceive ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto 
you." And those in Prov. " I love them that love me, and those 
that seek me early shall find me." And to make confession of sin, 
and plead for pardon for Christ's sake. Endeavor to follow him in 
plainness, so that the little ones might understand what I meant, &c. 

"As I think I never saw him more joyful, and pleased with me, 
so I know not when I have come away more comforted : for my 
scruples all vanished. And now, by assisting grace, I determine to 
proceed, as God shall enable me. Blessed be God, that I enjoy so 
great a privilege as my dear pastor, who has thus encouraged my 
faith, obedience and joy; and helped me in my strait. And now, 
O my God, I am convinced it is my duty to pray with my dear chil- 
dren, I fly to thee again for assisting grace. Lord, without that it 
will be only a piece of formality, and will never prove serviceable to 
any. J beseech thee, O Lord, pour out on me a spirit of prayer, 
and fill me with bowels of compassion to poor little ones." 

Mrs. Osborn not only prayed daily with the children in her school; 
but was constant and careful to instruct them in the principles of re- 
ligion, and in their duty to God and man ; and at certain times, and 
on particular occasions, seriously addressed them on the concerns of 
their souls, urging their attention to the Bible, to Jesus Christ, and 
the way of salvation by him ; and to give themselves up to him, to 
fear and serve him, &c. Her discourses with them on these sub- 
jects frequently appeared to make impressions on their minds, and 
greatly to affect them : and most of the many hundreds who were 
instructed in her school, retained a love and esteem for her in the 
future part of their life, and numbers of them, bow many cannot be 
now known, have never lost the serious impressions, which they re- 
ceived by her instruction and admonitions; but they have issued in 
their saving conversion to God. And we may reasonably consider 
some of them now in heaven with her, as her glory, and joining with 
her in mutual joy. 

A few months after Mrs. Osborn began to keep school the second 
time, her only son, Samuel Wheaton, died, being near twelve years 
old, who was an apprentice in the country, above twenty miles from 
Newport, and was a promising youth. She has recorded some of 
her exercises under this trial, part of which will be here inserted. 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 353 

"Friday morning, Sept. 22, 1744. — On Thursday afternoon, the 
sixth day of this month, I had the sorrowful news that my only son 
was sick unto death. God in his providence provided presently for 
me — m y dear Susa Anthony to keep my house — a horse for my hus- 
band and myself to ride, and all other things comfortable. And on 
my way, God gave me such a sense of his goodness to me in a thou- 
sand instances, that instead of sinking under my sorrow, my mind 
was employed in attention to, and blessing God for my mercies. 
Sometimes, that he was not snatched from me in a moment, by some 
awful accident — that he was not at so great a distance, but I might 
be allowed to go to him, with hopes of finding him yet alive. And 
those precious promises which in the morning had supported me, 
still continued as a refreshing cordial; even these. "Call upon me 
in the day of trouble, and I will hear thee. This poor man cried, 
aud the Lord heard him ; and saved him out of all his troubles." 

" On Friday morning we got to Rehoboth, where I found my son 
much swelled with a dropsy, and pined to a mere skeleton with the 
jaundice, scurvy and consumption, all combining. He rattled in his 
throat, like a dying person, laboring for every breath. He was given 
over by the doctors and all friends, who lamented him, and did the 
best for him in their power, as to the body. But alas ! my great 
concern was for that precious jewel, his immortal soul. I endeavor- 
ed to improve every opportunity to discourse with him, and read to 
him such portions of scripture, as I thought suitable, with passages 
out of Mr. Alleine's Alarm, &c. And I was enabled to pray all the 
day, by ejaculatory breathings, and sometimes to plead and wrestle 
with God on his behalf: though alas ! God was pleased to hide his 
dealings with him altogether. For I could discern no evidence of a 
work of grace wrought on his soul, for which I did plead from day 
to day. I did not so much as once, in all his sickness, pray for his 
life ; but for some evidence that his soul might live. And for want 
of this, I sometimes seemed to be crushed down, having a sense of 
his doleful case, if not reconciled to God. On Thursday, Sept. 13, 
the day before he died, I was just ready to give up, and sit down 
discouraged. My heart even almost died with fear of what would 
become of him. But just in this juncture, God in his providence 
ordered it so that I received a letter from my dear Susa, which was 
a cordial to my drooping spirits. 

" In his dying moments I had an awful sense of his deplorable 
condition, if his naked soul should launch into a boundless eternity, 
without a God to go to. I had also a view and sense of his and my 
utter inability to help ourselves, and utter unworthiness that God 
should help us. And with the woman of Canaan, I cried out, Truth 
Lord, I am as unworthy as a dog ! But I pleaded for the crumbs 
that fell, one of which would be sufficient for me and mine. I had 
a clear discovery of the fullness and sufficiency of Christ to make 
satisfaction. I pleaded that he would have mercy, as on the thief 

45 



354 MEMOIRS OF 

on the cross, then at the eleventh hour ; apply but one drop of his 
precious blood, and it was enough. Thus I was enabled to fill my 
mouth with arguments, and in bitter agony of soul I wrestled with 
God for mercy for him. Surely the pangs I then endured for his 
soul far exceeded those that brought him into the world. But as 
soon as the soul had taken its flight, I was eased of my burden. 
I immediately cast myself, and my burden too, on God. I adored 
him as a sovereign God, and blessed his name ; for he had given, 
and it was he who had taken. Surely he was better to me than 
ten sons. 

"I then arose from my dead child, and was quieted, for the will 
of God was done, and my work was done, as it respected my child. 
And God was pleased to give such evidence of his love, that my 
mouth was filled with praises. But when I looked on the young 
people who stood round lamenting him, I felt bowels of compassion 
for them, and besought them to take warning, and make their speedy 
flight to the blessed Jesus, before sickness and death overtook them. 

" While friends were putting on his grave clothes, I went out into 
the field and walked, where, with more secrecy and freedom, I could 
breathe out my soul to God. And the sweetness of that season I 
cannot express. God discovered himself to be my God, my cove- 
nant God, my Father, my Friend, my only portion and happiness, 
my sovereign, my all in all, my infinite fountain of all fulness. And 
these were some of the breathings of my soul after him. " Lord, 
I adore thee as my all. I rejoice in thee as my only portion. Lord, 
if I have thee, I have enough. Though all the streams were cut 
off; yet the fountain remains ; I cannot be poor. Whom have I in 
heaven but thee ? And there is none on earth I desire besides thee. 
Though my flesh and my heart fail ; yet God is the strength of my 
heart and my portion forever. Blessed God, though death separate 
from all things here below, it cannot separate between thee and me." 
O, here I rejoiced again, chose my God again, and again renewed 
the dedication of myself to him, my whole soul and body, with all 
I have, am, or can do. O, his word comforted, his rod comforted 
me. I saw no frown in it : no, but the kind chastisement of my in- 
dulgent Father. This portion of scripture was very sweet, "If ye 
be without chastisement, whereof all are partakers, then are ye bas- 
tards, and not sons. For whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth." 
Therefore I cried out, "I know, O Lord, thy judgments are right, 
and in very faithfulness thou hast afflicted me." 

" But I must cease. — For such blessed seasons are better felt 
than expressed. I continued so composed and comfortable, that 1 
feared those who knew not the cause would think me void of natu- 
ral affection ; till my taking my last farewell at his funeral. And 
then I found the bonds of natural affection very strong ; and I wept 
much. But as I followed to the grave, I pleaded thus with God, 
"Lord, I adore thee still as my sovereign. I do not repine at thy 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 355 

hand. But, dear Lord, pity me, and suffer me to weep under the 
smart of thy rod ; it is my only son." Then I thought on Psalm ciii. 
"As a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear 
him." This comforted me. But as I inquired again, if my tears 
were not sinful, and the effect of an unresigned will, which 1 dreaded 
most of all, I was comforted again by reflecting, that when Martha 
and Mary wept for their brother Lazarus, the blessed Jesus was not 
angry, but wept with them. O, then I again adored a sympathizing 
Savior, a glorious high priest, who was sensibly touched with the 
feeling of my infirmities. These and such like were the exercises 
of my mind, while following and laying my dust into the grave. 
And ever since I have been kept composed and cheerful. 

11 The Lord in mercy grant that I may more and more glorify 
him in this affliction. O that my sins may be more mortified. 
Lord, grant I may come out of this furnace as gold purified and fit- 
ted for my master's use. If I have behaved in any measure as be- 
comes a child of God, and any resignation has appeared in me, 
Lord, it is all owing to the riches of thy glorious and special grace : 
For hadst not thou by that compelled me to act otherwise, I should 
have flown in thy face, murmured, fretted and repined at thee ; cast 
away all my other comforts and mercies, and said I had none left, 
because thou hadst taken one from me. Lord, these, and more 
than these, would have been the effects of my perverse nature. 
Therefore, not unto me, not unto me; but to thy glorious name, be 
all the glory forever and ever. Amen." 

In the year 1741, a religious, female society was formed under 
the care of Mrs. Osborn, they having chosen her to be their head ; 
of which she makes mention in her account of her own life. This 
society met for some time twice every week, viz. on Tuesday and 
Friday evenings. Afterwards they agreed to meet but once a week, 
on the afternoon of Wednesday or Thursday. Mrs. Osborn was 
continued and considered the head of this society from that time to 
her decease, which was above fifty years. 

This society met constantly once every week, during the whole 
time of its existence, excepting a few interruptions, by some extra- 
ordinary occurrences. They also observed four whole quarterly 
days in every year, as days of fasting and prayer, confessing their 
sins, and seeking God for spiritual blessings on themselves, on the 
church of Christ, and on all nations. They also were wont to spend 
the afternoon of every first Thursday of each month in prayer to- 
gether ; and the afternoon of every Saturday before the monthly ad- 
ministration of the Lord's Supper. They had a box, which stood 
in the room where they met, into which money was put by each one, 
as she was able and inclined. And at the end of the year, or any 
other time, when they thought proper, the box was, by their consent, 
opened, and the money contained in it counted, and generally given 
for the support of the gospel. 



S56 MEMOIRS OF 

They agreed upon a number of articles and rules, which were 
committed to writing, to be observed by the society and by each in- 
dividual, and to be signed by every member, and by every one who 
should afterwards be admitted. The substance of these is as fol- 
lows : — 

At the weekly meeting of the society, when the appointed hour 
arrives, and a number are convened, the exercise shall begin by 
reading in some profitable book, till all have come in who are ex- 
pected. Then a prayer shall be made by one of the members ; 
and after that, a chapter in the Bible shall be read, and religious 
conversation be attended to, as time shall allow. The meeting to 
be concluded by another prayer. Four quarterly days in the year, 
in January, April, July and October, beginning on the first day of 
every January, to be observed as days of solemn fasting and prayer. 
We promise not to ridicule or divulge the supposed or apparent in- 
firmities of any fellow member ; but to keep secret all things rela- 
ting to the society, the discovery of which might tend to do hurt to 
the society or any individual. We resolve to be charitably watchful 
over each other, to advise, caution and admonish, where we judge 
there is occasion, and that it may be useful. And we promise not 
to resent ; but kindly and thankfully receive such friendly advice or 
reproof from any one of our members. We will endeavor that our 
discourse, while together shall be on the serious and important sub- 
jects of religion ; and when separate, that our speech and behavior 
shall be such as become christians, that we may be holy in all con- 
versation. _ — -"" 

If any member commit any scandalous sin, or walk unruly, and after 
proper reproof continue manifestly impenitent, she shall be excluded 
from us, until she give evidence of her repentance. Each one shall 
pay her proportion to defray the necessary expenses for wood, or any 
thing else, unless excused by the society. 

When any person shall manifest to any one of us a desire to join 
the society, it shall be mentioned in one of our meetings, that all 
may have opportunity, who desire it, to satisfy themselves, respecting 
the character and conversation of the person offering to join. And 
if at the meeting of the next week, there be no objection to her be- 
ing admitted, she may apply to the head of the society, who will read 
our articles to her, and if she is willing, and do sign them, she shall 
be considered as a member of the society, regularly admitted. 

As to any other matters, which we shall hereafter find conducive 
to the benefit and good regulation of our society, we engage to leave 
to the discretion and decision of a major part of us, to whose deter- 
mination we promise quietly to agree and submit. 

This society was found to be of great advantage to many if not 
all the members of it, to the church and congregation to which most 
of the members belonged, and to the interest of religion in gen- 
eral, especially in Newport, by their prayers and apparent sincerity 
and engagedness in religion, and exemplary conduct. 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 357 

Mrs. Osbom was by unanimous consent the head of this society 
above fifty years, as has been observed, even from the first institution 
of it, to the day of her death ; and a great part of the time their meet- 
ings were attended at her house. And she was distinguished in her 
usefulness in this station and capacity, by her prayers, her conversa- 
tion, advice, judgment, prudence and example; by which she was a 
principal medium of the long and happy existence and union of the 
society. Her influence apparently reached to every member, and 
her steady, prudent zeal and activity, and her amiable character, 
were very much the means of their continuance and edification. The 
society continued to meet in the room in which she lived, till her 
bodily infirmities were so increased that she was no longer able to 
sustain their company, and the exercises of the meeting. They then 
withdrew into another room in her house, where she was tenderly re- 
membered in their prayers ; and she was present in spirit with them, 
and partook largely with them in their exercises and enjoyments. 

Mrs. Osborn was esteemed as an eminently pious, exemplary 
christian, by all who knew her. And even the irreligious and pro- 
fane had a degree of veneration for her, as a remarkably good woman. 
Few or none have obtained this character more universally than she 
did, among all sorts of people, who knew her or heard of her: and 
not many women had a more numerous acquaintance, or more exten- 
sive fame. Many educated in her school were afterwards settled in 
distant parts, and spake in favor of her character and school to their 
friends and acquaintance. And as she had a great respect for the 
ministers of the gospel, she corresponded with some of them ; and 
many others visited her, agreeable to her inclination and desire, when 
they came to Newport, as did many other religious persons. By this, 
as well as what has been before mentioned, her name and character 
was spread abroad, as few or none who visited her, went away unim- 
pressed in her favor, as amiable in her conversation and behavior, 
and eminently pious and benevolent. In conversation she appeared 
remarkably mild, pleasant and cheerful, and discovered a modest, 
meek, humble, tender and benevolent mind, impressed with the se- 
rious, important and pleasing truths and duties of Christianity. The 
law of kindness was in her tongue to an uncommon degree. She 
had a strong, habitual aversion to any thing like aspersing the charac- 
ter of others, being careful to speak evil of none ; and when occa- 
sion offered, was disposed to say all that could be said with truth in 
favor of the worst. She was often greatly grieved and rendered very 
uncomfortable, in companies where slander and detraction took place, 
and would endeavor, when there was opportunity, to divert the con- 
versation from topics so disagreeable to her. This part of her char- 
acter, of which the above is an imperfect sketch, rendered her agree- 
able, and recommended her to the esteem and affection of all re- 
ligious persons who were acquainted with her, or heard a true report 
of her. And this procured to her the general approbation of all, of 
every denomination and character, as an eminently good woman. 



358 MEMOIRS OF 

In the years 1766, 1767, there was an uncommon attention to re- 
ligion, which turned the thoughts of many to Mrs. Osborn. They 
repaired to her as a known pious, benevolent christian, to whom they 
could have easy access, that they might enjoy her counsel and 
prayers. This was the occasion of numbers resorting to her house. 
When she saw this, and that the number increased, she was at a great 
loss what to do. She trembled with fear that if she encouraged their 
meeting at her house, it would be going beyond her sphere, offend 
some of her christian friends, and give occasion to some not friendly 
to religion, to speak evil of her and of religion, and so do much more 
hurt than good. On the other hand, she was afraid to discourage 
them, and refuse to let them come to her and meet at her house, when 
under apparent concern about their souls, lest, by this, their attention 
and concern should abate and cease. She advised with her christian 
friends, and some ministers ; and upon their advising her to encour- 
age them and attend to them, she granted them liberty to come, and 
appointed particular times for their coming. The poor Blacks ap- 
peared more generally concerned and engaged, than others. They 
agreed to meet at Mrs. Osborn's on the evening of the Sabbath. She 
admitted them, on condition that they should behave orderly in com- 
ing and retiring, and always break up seasonably, and that those who 
were not free should not come without the consent of their masters, 
and that they should not make any acknowledgment to her by at- 
tempting any compensation by presents, or any other way ; declaring 
that she would not receive any thing of this kind from them. On 
these conditions they convened in great numbers, commonly to the 
amount of sixty or eighty, and sometimes more. Mrs. Osborn, find- 
ing their attention was so much to her, was greatly cautious, fearing 
to go beyond her line, as a woman, in endeavoring to promote their 
instruction and religious impressions for the good of their souls. She 
used to select passages of scripture, which she thought would be 
most useful to them, and from other religious books, and read to them : 
and when she had opportunity, she would invite some christian man 
to pray with them. She took opportunity to converse with individ- 
uals, and sometimes would give a word of advice to them all. And 
where she could, she obtained some minister to preach to them, and 
converse with them; the pastor of the church, to which she belonged, 
not being able to attend. 

These meetings continued a year or more, and were the means 
of the apparent reformation of many, and of the hopeful conversion 
of a number. 

The bodily infirmities of Mrs. Osborn increased so much ; and 
her eyesight failed to such a degree for above twenty years of the 
last part of her life, and her whole bodily frame was so weakened and 
worn out, that she was obliged to give up her school, and was not able 
to do any thing to support herself. And as she had nothing laid up 
to live upon, she was wholly dependent on Divine Providence and 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 359 

her friends for daily supplies, during the whole of this time; and was 
the greatest part of it, confined to her room. This was in many re- 
spects the happiest part of her life. She was free from worldly anx- 
iety and care. She enjoyed a calmness and serenity of mind, the 
attendant of resignation to God, and humble trust and confidence in 
him, contented with the allotments of Divine Providence, seeing the 
hand of God in every thing which took place — constantly thankful to 
him for the mercies she was daily and every hour receiving — full of 
gratitude to those whom God inclined to show kindness to her — spend- 
ing the chief of her time and strength in devotion, in contemplating 
the divine perfections manifested in his works of creation and provi- 
dence, and in his word — adoring and praising the Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost, praying to him for the church and the world ; for her 
acquaintance, relations, friends, benefactors and for herself; with 
constant, humble confession of unworthiness, aggravated sins, and de- 
pravity of heart, making the daily occurrences respecting herself, and 
others, the matter of prayer and praise. 

Mrs. Osborn often said to her friends in this time, that she consid- 
ered her situation and circumstances in life, to be the best for her ; 
and that she knew of none, with whom she could wish to exchange 
outward circumstances, were it left to her option. She expressed a 
particular satisfaction in living sensibly dependent on the providence 
of God, for daily supplies for the body, living with God by the day, 
as she used to express it, having no store of her own, and not able to 
do any thing to supply her returning wants, and not knowing how 
and by whom they would be supplied, till it was sent in to her, com- 
monly in ways, and by persons not thought of by her. This was 
suited to excite a constant sense of her dependence on God for daily 
and hourly supplies, and the exercise of trust in him, and constant 
application to him, and acknowledgment and admiration of his good- 
ness in supplying her wants, in a way and at times suited to discover 
his hand and particular care of her ; and to excite her gratitude to 
her friends, and prayers for them, who sent or brought to her the 
things she wanted. 

In this manner she lived more than twenty years, and often de- 
clared to her friends that her daily wants were fully supplied, and 
that she was never destitute of the necessaries of life, and common- 
ly had a fullness, and often abounded. Her wants were not great. 
She stood in need of daily food, washing, candle light, fire wood, 
and some clothing, and money to pay the rent of her house, which 
was five dollars every three months. All these wants were constant- 
ly supplied, while no particular person was engaged to do it; so that 
she had none to depend upon but God. While the British had pos- 
sessions of Rhode Island in the time of the war, which was near three 
years, the inhabitants of Newport were driven to great straits, by 
the scarcity of provision, fuel, he. and many suffered to a great de- 
gree. Mrs. Osborn lived in a great degree of quiet, and had a con- 



860 MEMOIRS OS 4 

stant supply of the necessaries of life 5 and received no abuse from 
the British officers or soldiers, as most others did. Though a num- 
ber of soldiers were quartered near the house in which she lived, 
none were obtruded on her, as they were on others. And as to 
those who were quartered near her ; it was remarked by her and 
others, that they made less disturbance and noise, than they did else- 
where ; and were particularly careful not to do any thing on the Sab- 
bath to disturb that good woman, as they called her. And they took 
care to avoid all profane words when near her. Which she used to 
mention afterwards to her friends, as a remarkable instance of the 
tender care and protection of heaven. 

In the year 1778, while the British soldiers had possession of New- 
port, Mr. Osborn, her husband, died ; and a grand daughter of his, 
with her husband, who lived in her house, on whom she had some 
dependence for protection and assistance, moved into the country, 
by which she appeared more destitute and exposed, than before, be- 
ing left alone. 

In this time of particular danger and trial, Mrs. Mason, a person 
who gave good evidence that she was a real friend to Christ, and to 
his followers, manifested peculiar friendship and generosity towards 
her, by her constant attention to her, and supplying many of her 
wants ; and continued her special kindness in ministering to her as 
long as she (Mrs. Mason) lived, which she did till March, 1792. 
Mrs. Osborn often said, that Mrs. Mason never failed her in one in- 
stance, as a peculiar friend and constant benefactor, to the day of her 
death. We have no reason to doubt that they, both the giver and 
the receiver, are peculiarly happy together now ; and that the form- 
er is rewarded a thousand fold for all her kindness to the latter, as a 
dear disciple of Jesus Christ. Others have distinguished themselves 
in their kindness to Mrs. Osborn in ministering to her, whom it is 
improper to mention, as they are yet alive. We have the pleasure 
of being assured that they, and all who have ministered to her, be- 
cause she belonged to Christ, will have an ample reward at the resur- 
rection of the just. 

There was something peculiar and extraordinary in her being able 
punctually to pay the rent of her house in this time, which is worthy 
of particular mention. She depended wholly upon the unsolicited 
benefactions of her friends for this, as she did for her daily support. 
And no one was engaged to assist her in doing this, or to take any 
care about it. She had therefore no particular person to look to for 
it, or to make up any deficiency by which she should be unable to 
pay what was due at the end of each quarter. It was therefore a 
very precarious matter, to human appearance, whether, when she 
had paid the rent of one quarter, she should ever be able to pay 
another. She could not conjecture from whence it would come, as 
she had none to look to for it, but that God, whose is the world, and 
the fullness thereof. Her intimate friends were sometimes concern- 



MRS. SARAH OSBORN. 361 

ed for her, when her quarter was near at an end, and she had receiv- 
ed but part of the five dollars which would he soon due, and there 
was a great scarcity of money, and all appearances that she would 
not be able to pay. When this was suggested to her, she would re- 
ply nearly in the following words. "I desire to be thankful to God, 
I do not feel in the least anxious about it. I do not doubt of my 
having the whole of the money at the time in which it will be due, 
or near it. God has given me a constant and earnest desire to do 
justice, and pay when any thing is due. This is a just debt, and 
God has been pleased hitherto to gratify me by enabling me to pay, 
when it is due ; and I believe he will still continue to do it. Per- 
haps I shall not live to the end of the quarter. I shall then leave 
enough to pay this debt. I desire to leave it with God." She gen- 
erally had the money in her hand by the time it was due, and never 
failed being able to pay with punctuality. She frequently did not 
receive much, if any part of the money, till just before the quarter 
was ended, and knew not from whom, or from whence it would 
come ; yet before the time to pay came, as much as was necessary 
to answer her end at that time, would be brought or sent to her, by 
persons who knew nothing of her present strait. And it was often 
sent by persons who lived at a distance, which would come to her 
just at the time in which it was wanted. She had money sent her 
from Quebec, from the West Indies, and from various parts of the 
United States. 

This is related as a remarkable instance of humble trust in God, 
and resignation and acquiescence in his will ; and of the tender care 
and faithfulness of God, and loving kindness towards one devoted to 
his service, and trusting in his promises : and that it may serve as an 
example and encouragement to all, to " trust in the Lord, at all times 
and pour out their hearts before him/' 

Mrs. Osborn was, in the last twenty years of her life, stripped by 
degrees, and deprived of many privileges and enjoyments, which to 
her had been very great and precious. She had esteemed public 
worship, attending on the preaching of the gospel and public institu- 
tions, as far more desirable and important than all worldly good, in 
attending on which she had great enjoyment. But her bodily in- 
firmities were so great and increasing, that for near twenty years she 
was unable to attend public worship. Her eyes failed her to such a 
degree, that she w T as obliged to lay by her pen, not being able to 
write any thing considerable, which she had done before this with 
great pleasure and profit to herself, having written more than fifty 
volumes, the least containing near one hundred pages, the bigger 
part above two hundred, and a number three hundred, and more, 
besides letters to her friends, and other occasional writing. The 
failing of her sight also deprived her of the pleasure and profit of 
reading ; especially of reading the Bible, which she had before dai- 
ly perused with great pleasure and advantage. She had the Bible, 

46 



362 MEM01RS S &C. 

indeed, read to her daily ; which she considered as an unspeakable 
favor. But this did not equal the privilege of being able to have 
access to it, at all times, and on every particular occasion. But she 
paid such attention to the Bible, read it so much, and so treasured it 
up in her memory, while she could read, that she found great plea- 
sure and benefit in being able to recollect so much of it, when she 
was not able to read ; which she frequently mentioned to her friends 
as a matter of thankfulness. 

As she drew near the close of her life, she was a proof of the 
strength and hope of the righteous ; was an instance of the mysteri- 
ous example of flourishing virtue, with the decays of nature ; of 
satisfaction in the prospects of future good, when from the world she 
could derive no pleasure. "My physician," she said, " has seriously 
intimated, that I cannot live long ; but I am not alarmed. Unless my 
heart deceive me, and the heart is deceitful above all things, and 
desperately wicked; but unless mine greatly deceive me, I have no 
reason to be apprehensive for the future state. It appears to be the 
will of God that I should go hence. I ought to submit to his will, and 
I do, with cheerfuness. May his will be done." In another season, 
she said, " The trials of my situation are great ; to be in want of 
breath, is very distressing ; pray for me, that I may have patience 
and resignation : I desire them above all things. O pray for me that 
in these last hours of my life, I may not cause you all to blush that I 
have professed Christianity." It being remarked, that God was faith- 
ful, and would never forsake those who had loved and served him. 
"Yes," she replied, " I know, by experience, that he is a faithful 
covenant keeping God, and he will never leave those who love and 
serve him ; though without his grace I should immediately sink, and 
my mind be filled with darkness and repining." In this temper of 
humility and reliance on God, she continued, and gave no sign of im- 
patience, more than saying, a day or two before her death, when she 
heard the bell toll, that somebody had got the start of her. 

She continued to sink by degrees, till after a distressing turn, she 
appeared more comfortable, and they who attended her, helped her 
to lie down, at her desire, hoping she might get some rest and sleep. 
They left her for a few minutes, and when they returned, they found 
her breath was gone, and she a lifeless corpse ! Thus she left the 
world, and passed that death which she had so often desired, calm 
and serene, without the least perceivable struggle or groan, and, we 
doubt not, entered into that rest to which the righteous go, on the 2d 
day of August, by an uncommon concourse of people. The corpse 
was carried into the meeting house, and a funeral sermon was preach- 
ed, by the Rev. Dr. Hopkins, from Ephesians iv. 1. 1 therefore the 
prisoner of the Lord, beseech you, that ye walk worthy of the voca- 
tion wherewith ye are called. 

Note — From the Life of Mrs. Osborn, by the Rev Samuel Hopkins, D. D. of 
Newport, authotof the life of President Edwards. 



3G3 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 



Miss Susanna Anthony, was born at Newport, Rhode Island, 
on the 25th clay of October, 1726. Mr. Isaac Anthony her lather, 
was a native of Rhode Island. When he was young, he went to 
Boston to learn the trade of a goldsmith. There he became ac- 
quainted with Miss Mercy Chamberlin, whom he afterwards married 
and settled in Newport, where they lived about sixty years together. 
They had seven daughters, five of whom survived their parents, but 
no son. Susanna who was their youngest daughter except one, lived 
with her parents until they died, which was between forty and fifty 
years. She was never married. Her parents were of the denomi- 
nation called Friends or Quakers, in which way she was educated, 
until she was about fifteen years old, when she was the subject of a 
series of remarkable exercises, of which she has given a particular 
account, which we here insert. 

" Some observable passages in my life especially the first seventeen 
years of it; which 1 have collected from some memorandums, and 
by the help of my memory ; and now set them down, that I may 
with more ease peruse them. And as they are designed for my 
own use, 1 am no ways solicitous to omit any thing that may look 
trifling, if I think the recording it may serve to animate me, and 
excite that praise in my soul, which is everlastingly due to the great 
Author and Finisher of my faith. A desire to revive a sense of 
this in my soul has led me to review what I had formerly written ; 
and to recollect what my memory did retain ; and now to put them to- 
gether, in the order of their dates, so that being in this compass, 
I might readily look over them, when I inclined or needed it. And 
here I have begun from my early days. O, may that same Divine 
Spirit, which has worked all my works in me ever excite the warm- 
est sentiments of gratitude, love and wonder, whenever I review 
these records of the divine unmerited displays of his grace !" 

I was early taught to love, fear and serve the Lord. My dear 
mother took great pnins to form my mind for God. And blessed 
be God, who by his Spirit, followed the good advice, counsel and 
warnings ; early convincing me of my sinful state, of the corrupt 
fountain in my soul. The first sin that I remember to have been 
convinced of was pride : and this 1 saw to be in my heart, and from 
thence it had proceeded into act. I think 1 was then between five 
and six years old. And 1 r.cmember I was very anxious to know 
whether, if I grew good then, God would forgive me : and inquired 
ol some of my friends, as to this matter. In the general they resol- 
ved my question, and read the eighteenth chapter of Fzekiel to mc. 



364 MEMOIRS OF 

This put me with working with all my might ; and keeping up good 
resolutions. But conviction wore off, and I remember but little of 
these concerns, until 1 was about seven or eight years old. Then 
conviction did revive. I saw more of the sinfulness of my heart ; 
but r?ad no clear knowledge of the way of salvation by Jesus Christ. 
I knew Christ died for sinners ; but how we became interested in his 
death, I was confused. I had, though young, a set of notions of my 
own, and was excessively superstitious. I worked hard. I quarrel- 
led with the sovereignty of God. I remember, I felt my heart rise 
and my enmity worked violently, to find there was more joy over one 
sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons ; for I 
had worked up myself into such a good conceit of myself, that 1 
really thought I was one of the just persons. O shocking ignorance 
and presumption ! but God, who, I trust, was determined to bring 
me home, would not suffer me finally to persist in this scheme ; but 
did multiply conviction. I forsook God, and fell into sins, and was 
roused again by convictions. 

But as to the particular circumstances of a change, which I sup- 
pose to be about this time, I cannot remember them. The most 
that I can remember is, that I was in great distress about my soul ; 
that I saw the insufficiency of any thing I could do to save me. 
And about this time, had my heart much carried out after Christ, 
and the way of salvation by him. And I remember to have been 
filled with comfort and joy in religion. I should not think these 
things sufficient evidences that I had experienced a work of grace in 
my soul, had I experienced nothing more since that time ; but what I 
trust I have since known of a work of God in my soul inclines me to 
think my soul was then brought home to God ; that I then had true 
faith in God, if I now have. I can much better remember the effects 
than the circumstances of these things. And they were such as these : 
knowledge, faith and love, and hatred of sin. 

As to my knowledge, though to this day I have reason to be hum- 
bled to the dust that I know no more : and am often ready to cry out 
of my ignorance, that I am ignorant as a beast before the Lord. 
Ah ! woe is me, that I know no more of God, and divine, spiritual 
things. Yet my knowledge, however weak, is an evidence to me, 
that God did then work a work of grace in my soul. For now I 
began more clearly to see my wretched state by nature and practice 
my need of a Savior, and the way of salvation by him. My mind 
was enlightened, and drank in many of the precious truths of the 
gospel, about this time. And from this time 1 had a clearer knowl- 
edge of Christ as mediator, one chosen by the Father for sinners 
than before. 

As to my faith, which is an evidence of my change. After this 
time, which I suppose to be about the eighth or ninth year of my age, I 
did frequently endeavor to give myself up to God, casting all my con- 
cerns on him ; embracing Christ a? my only Redeemer ; resting on 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 365 

him as my only high priest before God the Father. And though at 
this age, and under some disadvantages, I had not a thorough doctri- 
nal knowledge, which renders my experiences, at this time, far less 
clear, than otherwise they might have been, yet the actings of my 
soul towards God then, appear since to me, as far as I can discern, 
to be the real actings of true faith. 

Again, as to my love. Now was my soul taken up in admiring the 
glorious way of salvation by Christ. He appeared truly amiable, as 
the Redeemer of lost man. Nor was the Father's love less wonder- 
ful, in giving his Son to die. I can remember to have been even 
wrapped up in ecstacy of love and wonder. For some time my 
thoughts seemed only to dwell and live on the admirable views of 
these things. I wondered they w T ere no more admired and spoken 
of by others. I loved the word of God, took great delight in rea- 
ding it, and in all the exercises of religion. My greatest delight was 
to pour out my soul before God. I brought before him the minu- 
test concerns of my life, and sought his direction and blessing. It 
was sweet to me to eye God in all I did. And God did graciously 
indulge my love and sincerity, (though attended with many childish 
weaknesses) and witnessed that he heard my prayers. O ! what en- 
largement did I now receive from a kind and gracious God ! and 
how was my soul taken up in love to God and religion ! and in hatred 
of sin ! which is another evidence. I found a hatred of all sin, as 
sin, as contrary to a holy God. And remember to have examined 
myself by that mark, and found it was so as far as I could find out; 
that I did hate sin, for sin's sake, and love holiness, for holiness sake. 

Thus I went on for some time, in the comforts of religion, and in 
the practice of the duties of it, weary of the world, and longing af- 
ter God ; desirous of the salvation of others. In particular, 1 re- 
member to have the soul of my youngest sister much on my heart. 
She was about six years and a half yonnger than I was ; and I used 
to put her to bed. And I made it my practice, when I had done, to 
kneel down undiscovered, and seek God's special blessing, and 
constant protection for her. O that God may fulfill my earnest re- 
quests for her. 

But after some time I began to lose these good impressions, and 
get in love with childish vanities and plays. And thus my heart de- 
clined from God and duty. Yet, forever blessed be God, who did 
not suffer me wholly to lose these religious impressions : but followed 
me with his Spirit, though I strove to disregard him, and follow my 
sports and plays, for which my mother reproved me ; and I resolved 
against them ; yet fell again. And thus I continued, often afraid and 
ashamed to pray, until forced to it by some distressing providence : 
and then I would continue steady for a while ; as when by a sudden 
stroke, God took from me my eldest sister whom I greatly loved. 1 
then flew to God for relief and support ; and that the blow might be 
sanctified to the whole family. Thus, when trouble was near, ! 



366 MEMOIRS OF 

poured out my prayer to God. But alas ! I was not steady and con- 
stant with God. My heart, after all that God had done for me, and 
all I had engaged for God, was now bent to backslide from God, and 
would have fatally apostatized from him, had he not kept me by his 
mighty power, from which none shall be ever able to pluck his chil- 
dren ; he having engaged to carry on the work he has begun, will 
assuredly fulfil his purpose. This I verily believe ; for otherwise I 
had never been recovered from such foul ungrateful wanderings. 
O, how long did God wait to be gracious ! how many mercies did 
he bestow on me ! how many gentle reproofs ; how many kind calls 
and entreaties did he use ! but still I forsook the Lord my Redeemer. 

And now he began to hide his face from me, and suffer Satan to 
beset me. My sins appeared great and I was covered with darkness 
and confusion. I appeared to myself amazingly ignorant. And here 
Satan strove to persuade me that I had better let religion alone, until 
I was older. Then I should know how to engage in it. And 1 was 
tempted to believe all the darkness and trouble I found was owing to 
my being so young, that I had not sufficient knowledge to engage 
in any thing of religion. O, what distress was I now in ! I found I 
could not now cast off God, and the concerns of my soul ; nor could 
I seem to pursue them to any purpose. I had set my hand to the 
plough, and dare not resolvedly look back, and cast off all thoughts 
of God and my soul ; nor would God suffer me thus to do. No, 
adored be the blessed God, who was now about to bring me near 
himself. Satan had often suited his temptation to my childish 
thoughts, and suggested that 1 could not be contented if I went to 
heaven ; for I could not be contented here always in one place. I 
returned the question, how I should be contented in hell ? but here 
he suggested the variety of company, I remember. This tempta- 
tion followed me closely. But the other concerning my being too 
young to engage in religion, was now very powerful. I found my- 
self entangled in a labyrinth of darkness and confusion. God had 
justly hid himself from me. The teachings of his Spirit seemed to 
be gone, and as I groped in the dark, I found not a fixed reliance on 
Christ, to carry on his work in my soul ; but often engaged in my 
own strength ; and then was foiled. I was often ready to think, I 
never would advise one so young as I was, to set about religion ; 
for I greatly feared I never should obtain the favor of God ; but 
should make shipwreck of faith; not considering Christ's care of his 
young, inexperienced disciples ; that these have a peculiar interest 
in his most tender care ; and that his promise is to such as seek him 
early, that they shall find him. Nor was I sufficiently humbled un- 
der my wicked departure from God. 

O, had God now left me, what had I done, but joined with Satan, 
and utterly forsaken the Lord ? but thus he followed me with the con- 
victions of his Spirit, sometimes reproving ; sometimes enlightening 
and encouraging me ; sometimes suffering Satan to assault me, until 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 367 

the year 1740,* when the Rev. Mr. Whitefield came here. I at- 
tended his preaching, and was quickened to give more diligence to 
make my calling and election sure. I read more, and listened 
more attentively to the truths of the gospel. And there being more 
talk of religion now, I got more acquaintance with the work of God 
in the souls of his people, and resolved more diligently to labor after 
a life of holiness, and inward conformity to God. 

Thus I continued. In the year 1741, the Rev. Mr. Gilbert Ten- 
nent came here. He had been here before ; but I had never heard 
him. But now 1 went. And some of my friends, being much af- 
fected under the word, expressed their concern to me, telling me, 
they wished they had been as much concerned for their souls, as 
they thought I was. This roused me. I burst into tears, and told 
them they did not know what a dreadful creature I was; what dread- 
ful thoughts I had. And exclaimed against myself most terribly; 
assuring them they could not once think how bad I was. But, O, 
how was I harassed and worried, after I had told this to them ! 
Satan worked on my pride, to make me ashamed that I had let any 
body know how bad 1 was. I thought they would not think me fit 
to live. I was ready to think every one would look on me to be 
such a monster, as was never heard of before. With many entreat- 
ies I was prevailed on, in the evening, to visit Mr. Tennent. But 
my mouth was shut. I dare not speak a word, only yes, or no. 
But I gained light by this worthy minister's preaching and conversa- 
tion. Forever blessed be God that I saw him. 

I wonder at, and adore the love of God in regarding any of the 
fallen apostate race of rebelling man. I am surprised at his con- 
descensions, when I read of his dealings with his eminent servants, 
who are as pillars in his house, and such from whom may reasonably 
be expected some suitable returns, though none can compensate the 
least act of his grace. But, O, how does my wonder rise, even to 
astonishment, when I review but what my treacherous memory yet 
retains of his dealing with unworthy me ! O, my soul, God knew 
thee to be a helpless, worthless, depraved worm. He knew thy sta- 
tion and capacity were low and mean, and thy ingratitude, sloth and 
negligence great, and unbecoming thee. He knew what poor re- 
turns thou wouldst make. And yet, O surprising grace ! I believe 
there are many of the former to whom he never afforded more 
speedy succor and relief, than to me. Verily, O God, it is like thy 
nature, immense and boundless. For thou hast chosen the base 
things of this world, babes and sucklings ; yea, things that are not, 
to shew forth thy power and grace. O, the height and depth of un- 
searchable grace and love ! 

But to return. Now I engaged to be the Lord's, and bound my- 
self to him in a short written covenant, which I find dated Oct. 19, 



She was then in her fourteenth year. 



368 MEMOIRS OF 

1741." And I enjoyed some more freedom from those violent dis- 
tresses, which I had suffered ; but was not wholly delivered. For 
my fear and temptation returned at times, though not so constant as 
formerly. And God graciously allowed me some near access to 
him in prayer. A very little after this I was seeking God for a par- 
ticular temporal mercy; and was powerfully quieted by those words, 
Matt. vi. 33, " Seek first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, 
and all these things shall be added unto you." This gave my mind 
a calm turn. And though I had no prospect of the speedy accom- 
plishment of my request; yet I believed in the promise; and left it 
with God, and was as well satisfied as if I had seen it done. And, 
before night, to the wonder of many, it was accomplished. I was 
filled with such a humbling sense of the goodness of God, and my 
own vileness, that I sat as one not concerned in the matter ; while 
others were rejoicing, and calling on me, to know if I was sorry. 
But rny soul was engaged in adoring God as the author of all my 
mercies, and in sealing to the truth of his word, that he was a God 
hearing prayer. 

I now began more strictly to examine those principles of religion 
in which I had been educated. But to find Christ, and be found in 
him, was the prevailing concern of my life. For I was so often 
plunged into new distresses, that I could not pursue any thing stead- 
ily. Yet I embraced those principles, which I thought most agree- 
able to divine revelation, without changing my profession. f But, 
when I had light and hope about my own state, I w T as disposed to 
look into these matters. But I feared to be too much engaged in 
any thing that did not immediately concern my getting into Christ, 
by a true and vital union to him. Now my soul longed after him, 
and the language of my whole heart was for a Christ, a whole Christ, 
in all his offices, on his own terms ; and that he would manifest him- 
self to me ; giving up myself to him ; engaging to be his ; afraid of 
every thing that might offend him. I had some discovery of Christ 
as a complete Savior. 

Numberless were the mistakes and errors, into which I ran at this 
time. However, though Satan urged me on to things, to an extreme, 
yet, I trust, God brought good out of it, and taught me much of a 
gospel, self-denying spirit. 

About this time, the Rev. Mr. Wheelock came here, and preach- 
ed from those words, 2 Cor. xiii. 5, " Examine yourselves, whether 
ye be in the faith," he. This put me on a serious inquiry into the 
state of my soul ; which I had scarce allowed myself to do before : 
but rather inclined to fix in my mind that I had no true faith, than 
to admit a thought that possibly I had. But now I made some in- 



* She then -wanted six days of being fifteen years old. 

t She was educated in the profession of the Quakers, as her parents were of that 
denomination. 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 369 

• 

quiry ; and dare not deny those evidences, which were mentioned 
from the scriptures. And, by a sermon of the Rev. Mr. Dickinson 
on the witness of the Spirit, I found, as I thought, farther ground to 
hope I had experienced a work of grace in my soul. But I had 
greater discoveries of the corruption of my heart : and was often 
amazed and confounded ; especially under Mr. Wheelock's preach- 
ing : but not so as to lose my hope ; though it was often very low. 

But now, as I had some hope and relief, I set myself to pursue 
the inquiry into the principles of religion. I read Barclay's Apolo- 
gy, Mr. Vincent's Exposition of the Assembly's Catechism, and sev- 
eral other authors on the same subjects; with some treatises on the or- 
dinances, and especially, I still compared them with scripture. And, 
upon the whole, after prayer and supplication to God for direction, 
according to the best light I could get, without applying to any per- 
son, on one side or the other, I was convinced that the ordinances of 
Baptism and the Lord's Supper were of divine appointment at first. 
And I found they had been kept up in the church by the apostles; 
and could find no proof from scripture that they were ever abolish- 
ed, as the ceremonial law was: and therefore still were in force, and 
ought to be practised by christians. I was now convinced they were 
the positive commands of Christ, and not to be slighted or neglected. 

As to the doctrines of grace, the imputation of Adam's sin ; the 
corruption of our nature ; justification by the imputation of the right- 
eousness of Christ, through faith in him ; the divine sovereignty, that 
grace was absolutely free and sovereign, without any foreseen merit 
or worth in the creature, according to Rom. ix, 1 Pet. i, and many 
other passages of the scripture to the same purpose ; and the other 
doctrines of the gospel, as set forth by the assembly of divines at 
Westminster, I did verily believe them to be most agreeable to the 
word of God ; which I believe to be the only rule of faith and prac- 
tice ; by which the Spirit of God doth lead us into all truth. I did 
embrace these doctrines, according to the best light I had, (after a 
diligent inquiry after the truth,) as most worthy of God, and warrant- 
ed by his word, for me to receive and walk in ; not condemning 
others, who did not see as I did. Yet I still continued in the way 
in which I had been educated, waiting on God for farther light and 
establishment. This was in the beginning of the year 1742.* 

And thus I continued until about June or July; when the Rev. 
Mr. Fish of Stonington came here. He preached from these words, 
"Wherefore, he is able also to save them to the uttermost, that come 
unto God by him." He observed, that here none were excluded, 
but such as had committed the unpardonable sin. It was a sermon 
full of encouragement. But Satan set in to persuade me that was 
my case ; and therefore there was no hope for me; for I had, under 
these violent temptations, certainly done it. O, how was my dis- 

* When she had entered on the sixteenth year of her age. 
47 



370 MEMOIRS OP 

• 

tress now increased ! I seemed now as one shut up in despair. 
However, I went in the evening to hear him again : but seemed 
hardened, as one given over of God. Whatever he said of terror, 
I seemed to disregard, as so far below what I should soon feel, in its 
full weight and measure, that it was but trifling. And what he said 
of comfort was not worth my regarding ; for I had no lot or portion 
in that matter. Never did I before sit under a sermon, in such wild 
distraction and horror ; yet so hardened, as I now appeared to my- 
self, in absolute despair. It is shocking to me now to reflect on the 
abandoned frame I then seemed to be in. I thought I feared noth- 
ing. No expressions of terror moved me to bewail my misery; but 
was ready to wish to know the utmost of it. In this situation of 
mind I remained most of the night. But towards morning, falling 
asleep, I awaked speaking these words, O, when shall this mortal 
put on immortality ! And my mind was much more calm. I had 
some impressions of a religious dream. But the dream soon entire- 
ly vanished from my mind. However, I felt so much encourage- 
ment, as prevailed on me to go again to hear Mr. Fish give a word 
of exhortation, notwithstanding all my dreadful conclusions on the 
night past. And he spoke from these words, Col. iii. 11, "Where 
there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, 
Barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free : but Christ is all, and in all." 
I cannot remember exactly the method he took : but he spoke of 
Christ as the Alpha and Omega, as the author and finisher of the 
believer's faith ; and, as such, the true Christian did esteem and 
prize him. 

And now, I trust, the Spirit of God did powerfully apply these 
truths to my soul. Thus, thus, infinitely lovely did Christ appear 
to me. And now I was enabled to choose him for my almighty 
Savior. And while I acted faith in him, the blessed Spirit, I trust, 
did witness with my spirit, that thus and thus I had before beheld 
and embraced him ; and that he was precious to me, as he is to all 
those who believe. Much of the day I spent in the company of 
Mr. Fish, and some other christian friends. But I said little. My 
soul was taken up in admiring the glorious Redeemer, and the riches 
of divine grace; renewing my choice of him. Setting the crown on 
his head. Proclaiming Jesus King in and over my whole soul. I 
sat calm and serene ; and every act of my soul was rational and 
solid : but not in any transport or ecstacy of joy all the day. But 
in the evening God was pleased to fill my soul with unspeakable 
consolation and joy. The great Redeemer appeared transcendently 
amiable ; and my interest in him clear and undoubted. Such were 
the surprising alterations in me, that some did conclude that was the 
time of my first espousals ; that was the happy moment of my con- 
version. But I could not find any difference in kind, though there 
was in degree, between this and what I had before experienced. 
From this time, I was never in such deep distress. My temptations 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 371 

fled at the rebuke of the Almighty ; and my hope was, in the gen- 
eral, above my fears. 

And, as my hope now prevailed that I had true faith, however 
weak, my desires after universal obedience to the commands of 
Christ were strong. And firmly believing the ordinances of bap- 
tism and the Lord's supper were appointed by Christ, and all believ- 
ers commanded to attend on them, I applied myself to a minister, 
who gave me some light as to their nature and design. The only 
person to whom I had revealed my mind. For I was determined 
to be fully persuaded in my own mind and conscience ; and not to 
be persuaded thereto by others. Some of my most intimate friends, 
as they have since told me, really thought me settled in the way in 
which I had been educated. Nor did they attempt to persuade me 
to change ; leaving me to my own reason, or rather to the word and 
Spirit of God, for direction. This has often since been a great sat- 
isfaction to me. For by this means I was the better able to see in- 
to these matters, and have my judgment established. 

And now I resolved directly to acquaint my dear mother with my 
design. But, O, the struggle I had here with my affections ! I 
feared it would grieve my tender parents. I knew their tender 
affection for me : and certainly, if they loved their children, they 
must desire to see them walk in their way, which they thought 
most right. Here I found indeed a hard trial. It grieved me to 
my inmost soul to think of grieving them : yet I dare not neglect 
my duty. I have often thought the trial would not have been so 
great, to have to struggle with their anger, as their love. But, bless- 
ed be God, I had not that to fear, as to any severity in matters of re- 
ligion. It is impossible to express how my heart bled at the thought 
of wounding them. And nothing but the fear of incurring the di- 
vine displeasure, could have prevailed on me to have done this vio- 
lence to my affection. But this prevailed ; the fear of offending 
God. I poured out my soul to him for them, that they might be 
comfortably supported under it. And then told my mother my con- 
cern and intent. She, with the utmost tenderness, assured me, that 
neither my father, nor she, would force my conscience. Only she 
entreated me not to be rash or hasty in what I did ; but consider 
well of it. Which I told her I had done, he. Once or twice after 
this, I discoursed with her upon it. She reasoned with me a little 
upon the subject; but I was now so fully established, that it did not 
move me from my purpose. 

After I had discoursed with my mother, being in secret, pleading 
with God for grace and strength to carry me through, if it was agree- 
able to his will ; if not, that I might never engage ; I had a scruple 
arise concerning my faith, lest it should not be true and saving : and 
then perhaps I should fall away ; and so bring great dishonor on God 
and religion. And it was suggested to my mind, that it was a great 
thins: to forsake father and mother for Christ, and not have an inter- 



372 MEMOIRS OF 

est in him at last. And that it was indeed a great thing for one so 
young to engage in such an affair; to forsake the profession in which 
I had been educated, and make such a high one, as none in the fam- 
ily had ever ventured to do. This put me upon wrestling with 
strong cries to the Father of mercies for direction and assistance. 
And I was quieted by the following words of scripture, which were 
very powerfully set home on my soul. " Verily, there is no man, 
that hath left father or mother, brethren or sisters, he. for my sake, 
but he shall receive an hundred fold here ; and in the world to come 
eternal life." And again, " My grace is sufficient for thee. My 
strength is made perfect in weakness." Again, " Lest a promise 
being left us of entering into his rest, any of you should seem to 
come short of it. O, thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" 
These words were impressed on my mind with such power, that had 
all the world stood up to oppose, I thought I could fearless venture 
to go on, against them all, in the strength of my Redeemer. O, 
how powerfully did they establish and invigorate my soul, in the pur- 
suit of my duty ! 

I was then determined to proceed, relying on Christ, in the prom- 
ises. If his grace was sufficient for me ; and his strength might be 
made perfect in my weakness, it was enough ; which I then believed 
it would be, according to his word. It was ground sufficient for me 
to engage in this concern, however difficult, great and singular it 
might appear, for one of my age.* O, how did Christ now appear 
for me ! At once, dispelling all my doubts and fears, confirming and 
establishing me, both as to my own good state, and his certain pres- 
ence and assistance in my following him in the way of his appoint- 
ment, to which he had called me. I saw the call was his, and the 
promise his, and the duty mine to comply. I now believed him com- 
manding me to seek his face in this way, and my heart returned, Thy 
face, O Lord, will I seek. 

And having made some search into the scriptural mode of baptism, 
I was well satisfied as to sprinkling. It appeared from scripture and 
reason to be right. I then went to the Rev. Mr. Clap; and, after 
discoursing with him, gave up my name to be taken into his church. 
The day before this was to be completed, I was under some dark- 
ness and fears: and therefore was afraid lest God should hide his 
face from me, in the solemn transaction. And by this means Satan 
took the advantage to make me question whether I had done right, 
in what I had done. I knew the subtilty of Satan to perplex my 
soul, and make me fear all was wrong, when God did not afford light 
and evidence. I was now ready to conclude to send the minister 
word, that I should not go out the next day. But now, even noiv 
was God pleased to speak to my soul by his Spirit, in those words, 
" I said not unto the seed of Jacob, Seek ye me in vain !" Here I 

% 

* Not quite sixteen years old. 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 373 

was led to review my calls to these ordinances ; and was powerfully 
convinced they were from God. That it was God, and only he, who 
had bid me seek his face in these duties ; and then the blessed Spirit 
assured me, from the word of God, that he had not bid me seek his 
face here, in vain. 1 then determined to do my duty, and leave the 
event with God : if he saw best to own his own institutions, by afford- 
ing his sensible presence and grace, well : but if he saw best to deny 
his sensible comfort, it was my duty to submit ; but not to omit my 
duty by not going. Thus I cast my burden on God, pleading, if it 
was his will, that he would welcome me there, by the light of his 
countenance, and the joy of his salvation. But, above all, that I might 
approve myself to him in the devout, solemn, humble and faithful 
discharge of my duty, though I felt not that joy which was sweet to 
my soul. 

And thus, on October 24, 1742,* I was baptized, and taken into 
the church. My soul was, in a most solemn manner, engaged to ap- 
prove myself to God. And never had I more sensibly exercised 
faith, than now. While the covenant was read, I was enabled to give 
up my whole soul and body to God, taking him for my own, only 
covenant God. And, indeed, the whole time was taken up in the 
most solemn transaction between God and my soul, and in this so 
solemn engagement, sealed on both sides. I sealed to be the Lord's; 
and here God sealed to be mine, my Father, my Redeemer, and my 
Sanctifier ; my only, everlasting refuge and hope. O, how happy 
did I now appear to be, under these solemn vows, calling on saints 
and angels to witness the solemn transaction ! 

" Here in thy courts I leave my vow, 

And thy rich grace record ; 
Witness, ye saints, who hear me now, 

If I forsake the Lord." 

The 121st Psalm was sung in Dr. Watts's version. The title, 
" Divine protection." Which did then, and ever since, appear very 
precious to me ; especially the two first, and two last verses. The 
two last are these : 

" Should earth and hell with malice burn, 

Still thou shalt go, and still return, 
Safe in the Lord ; his heavenly care 

Defends thy life from every snare. 

" On thee foul spirits have no power, 

And in thy last departing hour, 
Angels, that trace the airy road, 

Shall bear thee homeward to thy God.'' 

I was now fully satisfied in what I had done ; and never since, so 
far as I can remember, have had one doubt or scruple about the doc- 
trines or ordinances which I then embraced ; which is now above 



■ The day before she was sixteen years old. 



374 MEMOIRS OF 

eleven years ago.* I have often found cause to bless God for the 
many trials I had concerning the changing my religion, as to these 
things. For by this my judgment was more enlightened, and more 
fully confirmed, that I was right in what I then did. It was with de- 
liberation and solid determination of my judgment ; free from con- 
straint, persuasion or prejudice, that I proceeded in these matters, as 
what, from the best light I then had, or now have, in the word of 
God, I think to be most clearly revealed. Yet, I still love and honor 
those, who, I hope, are truly pious, among that people, though differ- 
ing from me in some sentiments ; and I firmly believe God has his 
chosen ones among them. My acquaintance with some, of exem- 
plary lives and conversation, and christian experiences, so agreeable 
to the word of God, forbids my censuring them, merely because they 
do not see or profess just as I do. 

But to go on with my own experiences. My faith began evidently 
to increase under these means and ordinances. And for some weeks 
after this solemn transaction, I enjoyed more solid steady peace in 
my soul, than ever I had done before : and was often melted down 
before God, to see those who had been educated in these principles, 
and had all outward helps to forward them in coming up to these sa- 
cred institutions of Christ ; yet fearing to take the vows of God upon 
them : and I, who was called to engage with so many difficulties, com- 
pelled to come in to this marriage supper. It was truly affecting, 
and often caused me to cry out, Why me, Lord, why me ? O. bless- 
ed be God, that I was thus young brought to an open, public pro- 
fession of him ; and had the seals of the covenant set on me ! It was 
a day of the gladness of my heart. A day forever to be remem- 
bered with joy. A day, in which God took me near himself. And 
I trust I shall ever find a solid satisfaction in what I then did. 
Nothing should have tempted me to have wished myself from under 
these bonds and seals. 

Thus was my soul daily established in God. Every outward re- 
proach that was cast on me, was improved, either to put me on see- 
ing that my foundation was right, or studying how I might more glo- 
rify God, and honor the sacred profession I had made. My soul was 
built up under the word and ordinances of God, on which he had 
taught me to set a high value, as being his own institutions. 

And though God has since sometimes corrected my backslidings, 
and hid his face for a small moment ; yet his loving kindness has he 
not taken from me, nor suffered his faithfulness to fail : but has gra- 
ciously led me along by still waters ; and in green pastures has he 
caused me to feed. His rod and his staff have comforted me. In 
and by every affliction, he has taught me his tender care over me. 
In every cross and disappointment, he has, sooner or later, made me 
to adore his wisdom, and see his kind designs of love, and mercy. 

* Hence it appears that she was twenty seven years old, when she wrote this. 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 475 

And though he has sometimes called me into the field of battle ; yet 
he has harnessed me for the battle, and fought for me. Innumerable 
evils have compassed me around. Satan, the world, and my own 
wicked, deceitful heart, all combined to devour me quick ; yet his 
arm alone has sustained me. Even when every refuge failed, and 
my faith was ready to stagger, my extremity has been his opportu- 
nity. He has never left me unsuccored or without relief. 

After I had enjoyed great peace in my soul, and had sat under the 
droppings of the sanctuary of God with vast delight, he was pleased 
awfully to bereave me of both my ever dear and Rev. Pastors : 
which was a very sore affliction : yet, under this trial, he taught me 
much by what I experienced. 

Then was he pleased to visit me with many and great bodily dis- 
orders, whereby I have been often brought, to appearance, to the 
gates of the grave ; and every outward comfort of food or physic 
rendered a terror, and an aggravation of my pain. Yet by all these 
things have I been taught the riches of his grace and love ; and in all 
has he been my comforter, and my only all-sufficient refuge. How 
hath he borne me, and my burdens ! And it is with pleasure that I 
now recount the most distressing trials of my life : For by these has 
God bound me faster to himself; laid me under renewed obligations 
to live devoted to him, and his glory. 

And when Satan has been permitted, as he has been in later years, 
most furiously to rally all his forces against the foundation of my 
hope, as to all religion : By which I have been led into the most ter- 
rible conflicts and combats, with the united powers of hell, so that I 
have even chosen strangling and death, rather than an encounter with 
these legions of foul spirits. How dreadful the w r ar ! Yet, how glori- 
ous the victory, which my Redemer has gained ! How wisely has he 
defeated Satan, and put him to flight, and filled my soul with songs 
of deliverance ! O, how T hath he defeated every hellish plot, that has 
been laid for my entire destruction. 

I am surely bound by the most sacred obligation to live to his glo- 
ry. His right in me is indisputable. The flesh, the world, and the 
devil, must all give back, and own his sovereign right in and over 
me. His arm alone has rescued my soul from hell ; and his shall 
be the glory. O my soul, remember the victories and triumphs of 
thy most kind and gracious Redeemer, over sin, Satan and the world, 
when they have all united for thy utter ruin. What infinite wisdom, 
what almighty power, what irresistible grace, what glorious goodness, 
what uncontrollable sovereignty, and what amazing condescension, 
have been displayed towards thee ! Can I, O, can I, ever forget the 
loving kindness of the Lord, and slight his tender mercies ! How had 
my faith utterly failed, had not the unseen arm of Jehovah sustained 
it ! How often have my hopes been at the lowest ebb, when speedy 
relief has been brought to me ! 



376 MEMOIRS OF 

And how often, when my sin and folly has exposed me to the rage 
of hell and the malice of men ; yea, to my Savior's severe rebukes, 
as well as to my own accusing conscience, has Jesus engaged for 
me, and delivered me from all my fears ! How slow has his anger 
moved ! How swift his grace ! How innumerable are these in- 
stances ! 

How tenderly has he been untwisting my heart from the world, to 
which it has dinged ! How much wisdom has he ever manifested 
in all the methods he has taken with my rebellious heart ; and made 
me to adore it, in some of the sorest trials. How has he conde- 
scended to instruct and teach me ; kindly showing me, wherefore he 
did correct me ; as though he would not suffer me to suspect his 
kindness. O unparalleled goodness ! Thou, Lord, hast been my 
refuge, my support and comforter, in every time of trouble. And in 
almost every trial and affliction have I vowed to the Lord, that if he 
would then deliver me out of my distress, I would use my most stu- 
dious endeavor to trust more firmly in him. And he has, sooner or 
later, brought me to cast my cares and burdens on him ; giving up 
every, even the most minute concern of mine, to his allwise disposal. 
And on every deliverance have I been led to renew the sacred en- 
gagements which I have made in distress. 

And now I am no more my own. I am the Lord's, by all the 
bonds and obligations of a rational, redeemed , devoted creature. 
God has been long teaching me his absolute right in me, and all my 
services and enjoyments ; that I can call nothing my own ; that he 
has a sovereign right to these, as the creator and bestower of all ; 
and by my own most voluntary surrender of all to him ; renouncing, 
in the most solemn manner, all hope, expectation, and desire, from 
the creature, and choosing him alone for my portion, desire and 
delight. 

And as it has been the ardent desire, the importunate request, and 
the grand pursuit of my life, to lay up all my good in God, and re- 
ceive all from him ; so I now find an habitual disposition of soul to 
rest, in a measure, satisfied with all his dispensations towards me. 
And, through grace, believing I am his ; that I have a covenant right 
to that most gracious Being, who doth all things according to the 
counsel of his own will, which are for his own glory : And in full 
agreement with this is the highest good of his chosen people : And 
having a thousand, and a thousand times solemnly subscribed to these 
terms : That his will and his glory may have the governing influence 
and disposal of me, and all that relates to me : I have esteemed it 
my highest' felicity thus to have myself, and all my actions and con- 
cerns disposed of. And, now it is my joy and crown of rejoicing, 
that it is and shall be so, by the firm and unalterable decree of him 
who cannot change. 

And this belief I find powerfully prevailing to reconcile me to all 
the divine dispensations of providence. For, when the glory of God 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 377 

is my highest end and desire ; and I firmly believe that God, who 
has the ordering of all my affairs, has this in view ; namely, his own 
glory, well may I rejoice : For I have nothing to fear. He has in- 
finite wisdom to direct, and almighty power to effect what he pleas- 
es : And therefore can never fail of his purposes. All his dispensa- 
tions towards me, I would always realize, as the result of infinite wis- 
dom and eternal counsel ; and therefore most perfect. And, though 
my proud rebellious heart dare rise up in opposition, and impiously 
call in question his ways ; yet, through grace, I never leave strug- 
gling, until the conquest is gained, and my soul submits to the scep- 
ter of Jesus, and signs its former engagements. 

And this conquest is his. It is he who exerts his almighty pow- 
er, and subdues my remaining corruptions ; or I should never over- 
come. All the glory is his, forever his : For, without him, I can- 
not do any thing. I still find such remains of sin in this depraved 
heart, that were it not for the prevailing intercession, and daily inter- 
position of the great God-Man-Mediator, with the Father, and against 
Satan and my own wicked heart, I should despair of ever gaining the 
victory. But, thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ, w T ho giveth 
the victory. And through him I hope ere long to receive the end 
of my faith, the salvation of my soul ; the open vision and full frui- 
tion of this best of Beings. When sin and Satan shall no more de- 
file and vex my weary soul. All these fiery conflicts shall then be 
remembered with endless acclamations to Jesus, my only almighty 
Savior. To him, to him alone, shall all the redeemed ascribe the 
glory of their salvation. Thine, O my eternal, incarnate God, shall 
be the praise. And now, what wait I for ? All my expectations are 
from thee, and all my hopes are in thee. Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly. Amen and Amen. 

The following paper is transcribed and inserted here, as it was 
written in her youth, when she was but seventeen years old, and ex- 
presses the views and exercises which she then had ; and affords ad- 
monition and instruction, especially to those young persons who shall 
read it. 

Oct. 25, 1743. I am just now entering into the eighteenth year 
of my age. And does the tempter tell me, that I chose religion 
when I was a child, and knew no better; when I knew nothing of 
the pleasures of this world : And that it may be, when these enjoy- 
ments and pleasures appear delightful, I shall forsake strict and solid 
religion, and run with the young, giddy multitude, into the excesses 
of vanity ? Then, O my soul, sit down again, and make another de- 
liberate choice ; even now I am entering the prime of all my days : 
And let me picture the world with its brightest side outmost; and re- 
ligion in a solitary dress; and then choose my portion. If my former 
choice has not been free and noble enough.; come now, my soul, and 
make one. Let there be nothing in it mean and low; but let it be 
great, noble and free. 

48 



378 MEMOIRS OF 

As to religion : Can I sacrifice my name, and all that the world 
calls delightful, now in the prime of my age ; and be accounted a 
fool and mad, by the wise, rich and polite world ? Can I withstand 
a thousand temptations to mirth and pleasure ; and be a despised 
outcast among men ? Now, if I conform to the world, I shall be a 
pleasing object to many, and a delight to them, who now despise me. 
What pleasure that the world can afford shall be withheld from me, 
if I once give myself up to sensual pleasure, and the gratification of 
my whole inclination ; allowing myself all that mirth and jollity, that 
my youthful age will now admit of? If I now give a loose to my 
youthful appetites, and satisfy my carnal desires ; what can then de- 
prive me of pleasure, now I am free from pain and the infirmities of 
old age, which might give a disgust to these pleasures. Now I have 
life, health and liberty. If I yield to these desires, and seek to sat- 
isfy them by a thousand new and fresh delights ; take my swing in 
the world ; cast away sorrow, and indulge self in ten thousand new 
pleasures ; what then can cross me ? 

And, on the other hand, if I choose strict religion now, I may ex- 
pect reproach, disdain and contempt, from the world, as not fit for 
common society, or scarce to live. I shall be accounted a poor, 
mean, ignorant, despicable creature, unworthy the notice of mortals : 
And, it may be, despised by formal professors, as being religious 
overmuch : They watching for my halting, and rejoicing at my falls. 
And besides, I must expect many dark and doubting hours, filled 
with bitter sighs and groans ; denying myself, and taking up my 
cross ; plucking out a right eye, and cutting off a right hand ; daily 
meeting with crosses, and losses, and afflictions ; and, it may be, 
with persecutions, imprisonment and death, with the utmost distress. 
While the sensual libertine lives in pleasure, flourishing like a green 
bay tree, and has no bands in his death. 

What a wide difference is here, between the strictly religious, and 
the sensual worldling ! Come, then, my soul, and view them both 
as far as death ; and now make a solemn and deliberate choice, ei- 
ther religion, or carnal pleasure. Come, my soul, and choose for 
Eternity. 

Sovl. Upon considering the nature and properties of each, I am 
brought to a free and full choice. I see nothing in this pleasure that 
can satisfy an immortal soul ; nothing worthy my notice ; nothing but 
an empty sound. Nor can it have any part in my affections, for a 
portion. They are but mean trifles, unfit to attract and busy an im- 
mortal soul. But religion, though it have its troubles with it ; yet it 
hath a sacred sweetness in all. I feel an inward pleasure and satis- 
faction, which gives a relish, as it were, to this kind of religious pain 
and sorrow. 

Objector. Come, Soul, lay aside prejudice. What ! Nothing in all 
this pleasure, to delight thee. Search a little deeper. Or what can 
be in this melancholy religion, to allure thee to choose its ways ? 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 379 

Soul. I have found what it is. For in all those pleasures, the soul 
has no God, and no happiness, suited to its immortal nature ; without 
which, all is but a sickening trifle. Wherefore, the soul which hath 
God for its portion, attended with ever so much sorrow, is unspeaka- 
bly more happy. 

Objector. But if you indulge yourself in pleasures, and strive to di- 
vert your company with mirth and jollity, you will gain the esteem of 
many, aud they will greatly prize you, and seek your company. 

Soul. I value the approbation of the most high God, before all the 
esteem of poor mortals ; and deliberately make choice of him, and 
his way of strict religion, for my portion, pleasure and happiness. 

I do now, with my whole soul and all my powers, choose God for 
my portion ; taking his cross as well as his crown ; esteeming the 
sorrows of religion greater riches than the pleasures of sin ; looking 
on it a pleasure to be crucified with Christ. I despise every world- 
ly enjoyment, compared with one smile from the lovely Jesus. I do, 
with my whole heart and soul, choose God and religion, though it 
may be through a sea of sorrow and distress, rather than the world 
in all its pomp and splendor, with ten thousand enjoyments. O most 
great and glorious God, I now choose thee as my sufficient, and eve- 
ry way suitable portion. I solemnly take God, the Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost, for my all, in life, death and eternity ; and resign myself, 
soul and body, into thy hands. And I take all the holy angels in 
heaven ; and even the Most High God, the possessor of heaven and 
earth, himself, to witness that I do. 

And now, Lord, I am thine. Do with me as thou wilt. I am 
thy clay, feeble, helpless, and hopeless. 1 throw myself, soul and 
body, life and health, liberty and pleasure, on thee, the boundless, 
infinite fullness of heaven, the immutable God. Lord, God, Fa- 
ther, Son and Holy Ghost, I this day and minute subscribe with my 
heart and hand, to be the Lord's. Even so, Lord Jesus, Amen and 
Amen. Susanna Anthony. 

Now I have again made my choice. A choice which, I trust, I 
shall stand by throughout eternity. And amidst ten thousand flat- 
tering temptations, I refuse them all, and esteem it greater pleasure, 
to mourn for sin, and mortify one lust, than to indulge a thousand. 
I now despise all youthful vanities, and sensual gratifications ; and 
choose a life of self-denial, resolving henceforth to take up my whole 
and entire delight and happiness in God, in the way of holiness; at 
whose right hand are rivers of pleasure, and that forevermore. 

And now, let me consider those objections against religion. What 
is that applause, which a carnal world can give ? Nothing but what 
is too mean to influence and actuate a truly noble mind. Mortal 
flatteries die with mortal worms ; and cannot live beyond this dung- 
hill earth. Besides, Truth hath said, " The friendship of the world 
is enmity with God." And it cannot be set in competition with the 



380 MEMOIRS OF 

approbation and favor of Jehovah, the great eternal Sovereign of 
heaven and earth. And, should I indulge my carnal desires, what 
peace and joy would a tormenting conscience afford, amidst these 
vanities ? How often have I seen such persons, as soon as they had 
a moment to reflect, ready to run wild ; nor dare long to reflect. 
Surely their pains have been more than their pleasures. But, sup- 
pose I could still the perpetual sting of conscience ; are all those van- 
ities commensurate to the desires of an immortal soul ? Can I have 
such mean, such sordid, base, vile thoughts of that immortal spirit, 
with which the great almighty Creator hath invested me, as to think 
such mean trifles can suffice a never dying soul, which must exist, 
as long as God himself? Surely there is nothing but an infinite good 
that can satisfy its boundless cravings. It is horrid barbarity to feed 
it on such insipid husks, since it is capable of immortal boundless de- 
lights in God. 

And what are these mighty frights in a life of religion, which 
should affright a truly great and immortal soul, since the joys only 
are real, lasting and perpetual ? Who shall dare to inscribe Eternal 
on any of the sorrows of a religious life ? What is any sorrow, re- 
proach or disdain, that admits of God to be the portion of the soul ? 
What if I be despised as poor, mean and ignorant, not fit for society, 
if Christ be mine ? He is rich, great, full of wisdom and knowl- 
edge ; and in him I may be complete, who is the head of influ- 
ence. And what greater honor can a mortal have, than to be a child 
of the King of kings and Lord of lords. God shall honor the soul 
with his presence. He will condescend to reside and dwell in the 
gracious soul : A guest infinitely preferable, as his nature is trans- 
cendent. 

And as to dark and doubting hours, some of these may proceed 
from my own sin and folly. But, as far as they are sent from God, 
they shall only prepare me for immortal joys, and make heaven the 
sweeter when I arrive there. These shall make my soul shine bright- 
er, and add new lustre to my glory. These shall all be remember- 
ed with joy, and every tear be put into a bottle, and add to my crown 
of joy and triumph. 

As to denying myself, and taking up my cross ; when it is to fol- 
low Jesus, it should be most pleasant : For his yoke is most easy, 
and his burden is light to the soul that truly loves him. And will 
not such a soul most freely and cheerfully pluck out, tear off, and 
crucify that which has wounded his Lord ? I should count nothing 
too dear to part with, for my Jesus, since he hath not for me. What- 
ever I do out of love, is sweet : and he rewards it a thousand fold 
with the consolation of his blessed Spirit. 

In fine, as to all crosses, and losses, and afflictions ; whatever I 
lose for Jesus, is gain. If I meet with crosses, I know they come 
from a compassionate God : and so will surely be for the best : And 
he cannot wrong me. If I give myself to him, he has bound himself to 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 381 

be my God ; which implies in it the utmost blessedness : And had 
he not bound himself, 1 trust his love would do it. The loss of all 
things, even life itself, shall be a happy gain, when the soul finds God. 
Let afflictions, persecutions, imprisonment, and even death come, if 
Jesus stand by, and strengthen, I am not afraid I shall suffer too much 
by or for him. All my care is, that he may strengthen me to endure 
the last extremity : For without him, I know the flesh will shrink 
back, and I shall indulge that carnal principle of ease. But God 
hath said, As thy days, so shall thy strength be ; and, My grace is 
sufficient for thee. How sweet is it for the soul not to count the life 
dear, and to resist unto death for Jesus and his truth ! O, what a 
truly noble soul does it discover in a christian, to wage war with hell, 
earth and his own heart ; and fight against all, rather than be over- 
come by them, and made a slave to his base, sordid lusts! 

After she had made a public profession of religion, she felt a strong 
desire to serve Christ, in an entire and constant devotedness to him, 
in promoting his interest and kingdom, the good of his people, and 
the salvation of men. This led her seriously to consider in what way, 
and by what means, she, in her situation, and circumstances, could 
best answer these ends. She was a poor, obscure person, and had 
no prospect of obtaining much of the things of this world, so as to 
do much good by supporting the gospel or distributing to the relief of 
the indigent. She did not expect to rise into general repute, or to 
any public station, by which she could have opportunity of exten- 
sive influence ; and her natural capacity she considered as small, and 
she was destitute of the advantages of education, which many had. 

After a careful and conscientious attention to this subject, and 
much earnest prayer for direction, daily crying to God, in the lan- 
guage of Saul, when he was converted, "Lord, what wilt thou have 
me to do ?" she was led to conclude that she could serve the inter- 
est of Christ, and of his church, and promote the good of her fellow 
men, more, by devoting herself to prayer, than in any other way, of 
which she was capable. And as, in her circumstances, she was in 
a great measure free from domestic cares, and had opportunity to 
spend much time in retirement, she thought it was her duty to devote 
as much time as could be spared from her particular employment, 
and necessary avocations, in prayer, not only for herself, and all her 
particular friends and near connexions ; but more especially for the 
prosperity of the church of Christ, and the advancement of his king- 
dom in the world, until all nations, Jews and Gentiles, should be con- 
verted and brought into it ; in which, prayer for the ministers of the 
gospel was included, that they might be filled with the spirit of Christ, 
and abundantly assisted and succeeded ; and that the head of the 
church, and Lord of the harvest, would raise up and send forth faith- 
ful laborers into his harvest, he. 

For this exercise she frequently set apart whole days, when her 
circumstances would admit of it, and especially when there appear- 



382 MEMOIRS OF 

ed to her to be a particular call for prayer : and spent them in secret 
fasting and prayer. And she used to spend the afternoon and eve- 
ning of the last day of the week in this exercise, when not prevented 
by some uncommon circumstance ; also the morning of the Sabbath. 

Before she was sixteen years old, she joined a society of women, 
who met once every week, for prayer, reading, and religious conver- 
sation ; and who devoted the afternoon, once in a month, to this ex- 
ercise ; and spent, at least, four whole days in a year, in fasting and 
prayer together.* Of this society she was a distinguished member, 
as long as she lived ; by whom she was greatly beloved and esteem- 
ed ; and they received much comfort and edification from her con- 
versation and prayers. In the latter, especially, she was distinguish- 
edly eminent; and, at particular times, had such enlargement and 
access to the throne of grace, that she would pray an hour and a 
half, or more, with such engagedness and fervency, without any rep- 
etition, with a flow of words expressing the most pertinent and affect- 
ing ideas, and with such a natural connexion, and progression from 
one to another, that none who joined with her would appear to be 
tired, but all pleased, affected and edified : and felt a consciousness 
that none could have an adequate idea of what passed at such times, 
who were not present, as a full description of the holy fervor, the 
clear view of invisible things, and that nearness to God, while she 
poured out her heart before him, which she discovered, cannot be 
made by any narration of them. 

She appeared wholly, and in* a distinguished degree, devoted to 
the cause of Christ and pure religion ; and was a remarkable exam- 
ple of devotion, benevolence, and christian friendship; of self-denial, 
sobriety, modesty, humility, industry, and of a careful circumspection 
and conscientiousness in all her concerns and conduct. She being 
greatly attentive to her Bible, and all other means of instruction 
which she enjoyed, attained an eminent degree of discerning and 
knowledge of the distinguishing doctrines and duties of Christianity. 
And, as she was greatly attentive to practical religion, and constantly 
studied the Bible in this view, always exercising herself to have a 
conscience void of offense, both towards God and man, she was re- 
markably judicious as a casuist, and greatly helpful to her friends, who 
applied to her in doubtful and difficult cases of conscience. All this 
has been already very particularly exhibited by the extracts from her 
writings, which have been produced in the preceding sections: but 
cannot, even in this way, be fully expressed, or set in that clear, af- 
fecting, and amiable light, before the public, in which she was seen, 
loved, and admired, by her particular and intimate friends. 

Her bodily frame and constitution were so feeble and delicate, from 
her youth, that she was not equal to any business, which required a 

* This is the same society mentioned in the preceding memoir, as having been 
founded by Mrs. Osborn, and her friends, 



MISS SUSANNA ANTHONY. 383 

considerable degree of strength and exertion. She was, therefore, 
chiefly employed in the use of her needle, in which she was expert 
and skilful, and by which she was able to support herself, when she 
enjoyed her health, of which she was deprived for a number of years, 
from about the twentieth year of her age, and fell into very painful 
and distressing disorders of body ; so that she appeared to herself and 
others, many times, to be dying, or near to death ; and her physician 
and friends thought she could not survive her disorders, which at- 
tended her several years, excepting some short intervals of respite. 
But she was, in a great measure, relieved from these distressing dis- 
orders, and enjoyed a degree of ease and health in the latter part of 
her life ; though she was always feeble, and subject to turns of painful 
maladies. 

When the war, between Britain and America, commenced, she 
left Newport, and went into the country, where she spent a great part 
of her time, until that war was nearly closed ; part of which time she 
spent in teaching the children in the families in which she lived, and 
in keeping a small school; in which she appeared to be greatly ser- 
viceable, and obtained the approbation, gratitude, and esteem, of those 
who employed her. 

After the war, she lived at Newport to the time of her decease, a 
comfort, and greatly useful to her friends, earnestly endeavoring, in 
her sphere, to promote the cause of truth and Christianity in the 
world, and more especially in the religious society with which she 
was connected ; by whom her death was justly considered as an un- 
speakable loss. But, with respect to the people in general, the words 
of the prophet may be applied, in this instance : " The righteous 
perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart ; the merciful are taken 
away, none considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil 
to come." 

In the month of June, 1791, her youngest sister was taken sick 
with a peripneumony ; and as she had but one more sister then living, 
who was out of town, she went and attended her in her sickness* 
which proved mortal, and she died in about a week. On the day in 
which her sister died, she was seized with the same disorder, which 
put an end to her life also in one week. The disorder, with which 
she died, was violent from first to last, and uncommonly distressing; 
so that she was not able to say much in this her last sickness. She, 
however, said to her christian friends, that she desired to bless God, 
that she had nothing of those conflicts, which she had before some- 
time feared ; but her soul did, with a sweet calm and confidence, rest 
on Jesus Christ, without the least doubt of her union to him, and of 
her happiness in his kingdom for ever. Thus she died, on the 23d 
of June, 1791.* 



From the Life of Miss Anthony, by Dr. Hopkins. 



384 



MRS. MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY. 



Martha Laurens Ramsay was bora in Charleston, S. C. on the 
3d of November, 1759. She was the daughter of Henry Laurens 
and of Eleanor Ball, and born in the ninth year after their marriage. 
By the father's side, she was of French extraction. Her great 
grand parents were born in Rochelle, and suffered in the famous 
siege of that place. They were Huguenots or Protestants. Being, 
by the revocation of the edict of Nantz, compelled to leave their 
native country, they came to America in the latter end of the 17th 
century. Her maternal ancestors migrated from Devonshire, in 
England, and settled in South Carolina about the same time. 

In the first year of her life, she had the small pox so severely 
that she was supposed to be dead, and as such was actually laid out 
preparatory to her funeral. This was done under an open window, 
instead of the close room in which she had been kept, according to 
the absurd mode of treating the small pox in 1760. Dr. Moultrie, 
coming in at this crisis, pronounced her to be still alive, probably re- 
called to life by the fresh air of the open window. Under other 
circumstances she would shortly have been buried, as was then 
commonly done, with persons who died of the small pox in that 
year of extensive mortality. A valuable life was thus providentially 
saved for future usefulness. 

Martha Laurens early discovered a great capacity and eagerness 
for learning. In the course of her third year she could readily read 
any book, and, what is extraordinary, in an inverted position, with- 
out any difficulty. In youth her vivacity and spirits were exuberant. 
Feats of activity, though attended with personal danger, were to her 
familiar; great exertions of bodily labor; romantic projects; ex- 
cesses of the wildest play were preferred to stagnant life ; but from 
all these she could be turned off in a moment to serious business. 
As she grew up, the same activity was exerted in acquiring the use- 
ful and ornamental parts of female education. She very soon ac- 
quired a grammatical knowledge of the French language ; a con- 
siderable eminence in reading, writing, arithmetic, English grammar, 
geography, the use of the globes. She even acquired a considera- 
ble acquaintance with geometry and mathematical science. At the 
same time, she was indefatigable in cultivating an acquaintance with 
books ; and, by means of abridging, transcribing, and committing to 
memory, was very successful in retaining much of what she read. 
In accomplishments and the ornamental parts of education, she ex- 
celled, and in the exercise of them took great delight. 



memoirs, he. 385 

In the eleventh year of her age, she sustained an immense loss 
by the death of her excellent mother ; but this was in some meas- 
ure made up by the maternal care of her good aunt, Mary Laurens, 
the wife of James Laurens, whose sound judgment, refined manners, 
and, eminent piety, well fitted her for training up her orphan niece 
for both worlds. To her care, and to that of his brother, Henry 
Laurens committed the charge of his two daughters, while he went 
to superintend the education of his sons in Europe. There he con- 
tinued till the end of the year 1774, when love for his country 
brought him back to its defence against the aggressions of Britain. 
Thus, while Providence deprived Miss Laurens of the instructions 
and example of her natural mother, it raised up another friend, who 
performed the maternal duties, with equal capacity, fidelity, and af- 
fection. Though she was deprived of the company of her wise and 
virtuous father, for almost the whole of that interesting period, which 
extended from the eleventh to the twenty second year of her age, 
she continued to receive letters from him. From 1771 till 1775 his 
paternal instructions, communicated by letter, were calculated to for- 
ward the virtuous education of a beloved daughter, growing up with 
fair prospects of an ample fortune ; but in and after 1775 he warned 
her of the probability that his estate would be forfeited, and that her 
father and brother in arms would lose their lives, and that she must 
prepare to maintain herself by her own exertions. These anticipa- 
tions were not fully realized ; but the expectation of them had a di- 
rect tendency to assist in forming the solid education of the person 
to whom they were addressed. 

Miss Laurens, in her twelfth year, began to be the subject of se- 
rious religious impressions. She was well instructed in the great 
gospel mystery of salvation by the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ 
for the sins of the world. And there is good reason to believe, that 
at a very early period she was brought, by the grace of God, cor- 
dially to accept of salvation freely offered, though dearly purchased. 

In the fifteenth year of her age, in conformity to the advice of 
Dr. Doddridge, and in a form of words recommended by him, she 
prepared, and solemnly executed an instrument of writing, called by 
her, with great propriety, "A self dedication and solemn covenant 
with God." In this, after a suitable introduction, " she presents be- 
fore her Maker the whole frame of her nature, all the faculties of 
her mind, and all the members of her body, as a living sacrifice 
holy and acceptable unto God." And "not only consecrates all that 
she was, and all that she had to his service, but humbly resigns to 
his heavenly will all that she called hers, to be disposed of as he 
pleased." In the Old Testament, we several times read of the ru- 
lers, priests, and people among the Jews solemnly covenanting be- 
fore God, to renounce their transgressions and to adhere to his ser- 
vice. In the ninth and tenth chapters of Nehemiah there is a par- 
ticular account of a covenant to this effect, drawn up in writing, and 

49 



386 MEMOTRS OF 

ratified by the names and seals of the persons who consented to it. 
Whether, in addition to these examples from holy writ, and the re- 
commendation of Dr. Doddridge, there were any particular circum- 
stances, which, at that time, induced Miss Laurens to enter into this 
written engagement to be the Lord's, is unknown. It is behaved 
that she kept the transaction secret from all the world, and that the 
paper in question was never seen by any human being before her 
death, thirty seven years afterwards. At the time of its execution, 
she was exactly fourteen years and seven weeks old, was in possession 
of all the comforts of life, and had as brilliant prospects before her 
as any of her sex in Carolina. The only serious affliction she had 
then met with was the loss of her mother. This had taken place 
three years and seven months before, and the keen sensations occa- 
sioned thereby must, in the ordinary course of things, have been 
nearly worn off by time. The engagements thus solemnly entered 
into by Miss Laurens were in unison with her subsequent conduct 
through life. Of the sincerity of the transaction, on her part, on a 
view of all its circumstances, no doubt can exist. 

In the year 1775, James Laurens, his wife and two nieces, Martha 
Laurens, and Mary Eleanor Laurens, afterward the wife of Charles 
Pinckney, went to England. Martha Laurens was received on her 
landing by her elder brother, John Laurens, from whom she had 
been for some years separated. Being older, he had taken great 
delight in forwarding her education, and particularly, in forming her 
mind to be superior to the common accidents of life, and the ground- 
less fears of some of her sex. To ascertain whether his labors had 
been successful or not, he bribed the postillion to drive very rapidly, 
and at the same time, without discovering his views, narrowly watch- 
ed her countenance, to observe whether there were any changes in 
it expressive of womanish fears, at the novel scene, so totally differ- 
ent from all her former travelling in the low, flat, stoneless country of 
Carolina. On the termination of the experiment, to his satisfaction, 
he announced to his unsuspecting sister his congratulations, that "he 
had found her the same Spartan girl he had left her." 

During the first years of the American Revolution, and for a short 
time after its termination, Miss Laurens resided in various parts of 
England, improving her mind, and preparing herself for meeting the 
contemplated loss of her father, brother, and fortune, by the events 
of the war, and at the same time doing every office of love to her 
uncle, who for the last ten years of his life labored under a painful 
complaint. While residing in England, she formed an acquaintance 
with many persons eminent for their piety, and particularly with the 
Countess of Huntingdon, by whom she was very much noticed. 
She highly prized the company of such persons, and from them re- 
ceived both pleasure and improvement. 

After the treaty of France with Congress, in 1778, and particu- 
larly the rejection, in the same year, of the offers of Great Britain, 



MRS. MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY. 387 

for a reunion with her late colonies, the situation of the Carolina 
Laurens family in England was unpleasant. Henry Laurens was at 
that time president of Congress, and had officially conducted the 
correspondence of that body with the British commissioners, which 
terminated in a rejection of their offers. Miss Laurens was often 
obliged to hear her native country abused, and to read and hear her 
beloved father calumniated as a fomenter of the disputes between 
Britain and her colonies, and as an aspiring, ambitious man, wishing 
to rise to consequence at every hazard ; but taught by his sage ad- 
vice, and her own good sense, she shunned all political controversy. 
Unable to render her suffering country any other service, she daily 
offered up her fervent prayers in its behalf. 

Mr. James Laurens, his two nieces, and their aunt, finding it ex- 
pedient to leave England, passed over to France, and lived there till 
the re-establishment of peace. During the greatest part of this pe- 
riod, of six or seven years, and the whole of the time of their resi- 
dence in England, they were almost wholly cut off from their usual 
means of support, for their property was in America, three thousand 
miles distant. War raged, and the Atlantic ocean rolled between 
them and it. In this forlorn situation they found ample occasion for 
all the comforts of the religion which they professed. The greatest 
economy was necessary. A residence in Vigan was preferred on 
account of the cheapness of living. There Miss Laurens spent her 
time usefully to her uncle, profitably to herself, and as pleasantly as 
straitened circumstances, anxiety for her friends and native country 
would permit. She had many opportunities of improving her mind 
by reading and conversation, of which she availed herself. She and 
the family of her uncle received great civilities from the French for 
the same reasons that occasioned the slights they received from the 
English. But nevertheless, they had all abundant scope for the ex- 
ercise of faith, patience, and trust in that Being to whom they had 
committed all their concerns. 

In the year 1780, Miss Laurens's father was taken prisoner at sea, 
and confined on a charge of high treason in the tower of London, 
and his life thus staked on the success of the American Revolution. 
If that had failed, it would have been easy to have convicted him of 
the crime with which he was charged, and not easy to have saved 
him from the penalty annexed to it. The disorder of her uncle 
became daily worse, and required unceasing attention by night and 
by day ; Charleston was taken by the British ; Carolina overrun by 
their armies ; remittances were not only rendered impossible, but the 
loss of the whole capital extremely probable. The alarms of her 
father, at the beginning of the war, seemed to be on the point of be- 
ing realized. About the same time intelligence was received that 
her dearly beloved brother, John Laurens, had fallen in battle. Un- 
der this complication of distresses, she found the wisdom and com- 
fort of having secured a friend in her maker, bv a solemn covenant 



388 MEMOIRS OF 

entered into with him in the morning of life, in the full enjoyment of 
health, and in the fair prospect of every worldly blessing. From this 
source she drew much consolation, and bore up under every trial, 
trusting in him, to whom she had, in a most solemn manner, conse- 
crated herself. In due time the clouds of adversity began to disperse ; 
the prospects of America brightened. Her father was discharged 
from confinement, and after a separation of seven years, she joined 
him in Paris, and presided over his domestic concerns, while he as- 
sisted in the negociations which terminated in peace and the acknowl- 
edged independence of the United States. The transition from the 
nurse's chamber, in a remote country place, to the head of the table 
of a minister plenipotentiary in the metropolis of France, was great 
and sudden. Amidst the gayeties of Paris, in which she occasionally 
indulged, her Bible was her companion and counsellor. She read it 
by day and meditated on it by night. It had taught her to bear ad- 
versity with patience, resignation and fortitude ; and now kept her 
from the intoxication and follies which are too apt to grow out of 
prosperity. 

The restoration of peace to Carolina in 1783, pointed out the 
propriety of the return of the inhabitants. Miss Laurens, with her 
aunt and sister, arrived in Charleston in 1785, after a long absence, 
comprehending something more than the whole period of the Ameri- 
can revolution. Their joy on finding their native country at peace, 
and raised from the humble rank of a dependent colony to that of 
an independent state, was inexpressible. Now, for the first time, 
after leading an unsettled life for ten years, they found themselves at 
home. On the 23d of January, 1787, Miss Laurens was married 
to Dr. David Ramsay, and in the course of the ensuing sixteen years, 
became the mother of eleven children. Of these eight survived. 
Mrs. Ramsay now displayed the same virtuous habits, and the same 
energy of character, in taking care of her children, in promoting her 
husband's happiness, and making a well ordered home his chief de- 
light, that had formerly distinguished Miss Laurens in acquiring use- 
ful knowledge, and discharging the duties of a daughter, a sister, and 
a niece. Soon after she became a mother, she studied with deep 
Interest most of the esteemed practical treatises on education, both in 
French and English, that she might be better informed of the nature 
and extent of her new duties. She gave a decided preference to 
the writings of Mr. Locke and Dr. Witherspoon on that subject. 
The object she proposed to herself was to obtain for her children, 
health of body and a well regulated mind. To secure the former, 
they were from their birth daily washed in cold water, and through- 
out the whole period of infancy, permitted to expose themselves 
with uncovered feet, to wet and cold, and all the varieties and sud- 
den changes of Carolina weather. To favor the latter, they were 
taught to curb their tempers; to subject their passions to the su- 
preme dominion of reason and religion ; to practise self denial ; to 



MRS. MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY. 389 

bear disappointments ; and to resist the importunity of present pleas- 
ure or pain, for the sake of what reason pronounces fit to be done 
or borne. She suckled all her children without the aid of any wet 
nurse; watched over them by night and day; and clung to them 
every moment of sickness or pain. They were the subjects of her 
prayers before they were born, and every subsequent day of her 
life. With one exception, she devoted them all to God in baptism, 
publicly in churfch, at a time when private baptisms were common; 
for she rejoiced in every proper opportunity of declaring to the world 
her firm belief of the christian religion, and her respect for all its in- 
stitutions. As soon as they were capable of receiving religious in- 
struction, she liberally imparted it; and early taught them their mis- 
erable and corrupted state by nature ; that they were born into a 
world of sin and misery ; surrounded with temptations, and without 
a possibility of salvation, but by the grace of God, and a participa- 
tion in the benefits procured for sinners, by the atoning sacrifice of 
Jesus Christ, and at the same time, that God was the hearer of 
prayer, the tenderest of fathers, and the best of friends to all who 
put their trust in him. She early taught them to read their Bibles. 
That this might be done pleasantly, she connected with it Mrs. Trim- 
mer's prints of scripture history; that it might be done with under- 
standing, she made them read, in connection with their Bibles, 
Watts's short view of the whole scripture history, and, as they ad- 
vanced to a proper age, Newton on the Prophecies ; and such books 
as connect sacred with profane history, and the Old with the New 
Testament ; so that the Bible, though written in periods widely re- 
mote from each other, might appear to them a uniform, harmonious 
system of divine truth. Of this blessed book she enjoined upon 
them daily to read a portion, and to prize it as the standard of faith 
and practice; as a communication from heaven on eternal concerns; 
as the word of God pointing out the only way to salvation ; as a let- 
ter of love sent from their heavenly Father to direct their wandering 
feet to the paths of truth and happiness. 

As her children advanced in years, she conducted her sons through 
a course of education fitting them to enter college, and with the help 
of her tried and accomplished friend, Miss Futerell, she carried her 
daughters at home through the several studies taught in boarding 
schools. In every period of her adult age, whether married or sin- 
gle, when, from accidental circumstances, she was the head of the 
family, and in health, she daily read to her domestic circle, a portion 
of the holy scriptures, and prayed with them ; and frequently on par- 
ticular occasions, with one or more individuals of it, and regularly, 
every Sunday, with her young white and black family, in addition to 
catechetical instructions given to both at the same time. 

Mrs. Ramsay was uncommonly economical of time. She suffer- 
ed none of it to be wasted. By rising early she secured the most 
raJuable portion of it for devotion and business. A reasonable part 



390 MEMOIRS OF 

of every day was spent in religious exercises. Much in reading well 
chosen books, and also in copying original papers for her father and 
husband ; much in working for the accommodation of her family ; 
and much in teaching her children, and forming their minds to virtue, 
and knowledge, and often a considerable part of it in writing letters 
to her absent friends. With a few exceptions she declined all visits 
during the day, as destructive to her plans, making every hour turn to 
the best account. ' When the business of the day was ended, she in- 
dulged her social habits. The number of books she read was as- 
tonishingly great, and her memory uncommonly strong in retaining 
the substance of their contents. She could recite nearly the whole 
of Young's Night Thoughts without book. With the Holy Scriptures 
she was intimately acquainted, and could readily turn to any text, or 
passage, bearing on the subject of the conversation. The Latin and 
Greek Classics she had read in translations, at a very early period. By 
catching from her brother, by studying occasionally his Latin gram- 
mar and books, and by the aid of an accurate knowledge of the 
French language, and the general principles of grammar, as applied 
to the English and French languages, she laid such a foundation, that 
when she became the mother of children, for their sakes she ran over 
the Latin and Greek classics, in the short method recommended by 
Mr. Locke, so as to make her a profitable instructor to them, in these 
languages. With the same views, she began, and prosecuted to a 
considerable extent, the study of Botany. From the same versatility 
of genius, and habits of industry, after she was married, she read 
with attention, most of the practical writers on medicine, that were 
then usually put into the hands of medical students, and studied with 
particular interest such of them as treat of the diseases of women 
and children. In times of general sickness, when her husband was 
full of business, she frequently shortened his labors, in studying cases 
of peculiar difficulty, by running over his books, and finding similar 
cases ; and collecting in one view for his inspection, the opinions and 
practice of standard medical authors, on diseases of the same nature. 
She was familiar with most of the modern works of genius, taste and 
imagination, written in the English and French language, and enjoy- 
ed them. In solid learning she was not deficient. Locke's Essay 
on the Human Understanding, Watts's Logic, Improvement of the 
Mind, Philosophical Essays, and other works of science, were the 
studies of her youth. To these, as she grew up, she added natural 
and civil history, biography, astronomy, chronology, voyages and 
travels, he. In divinity, she read much that was practical, but rare- 
ly looked into any thing that was controversial. A few fundamental 
doctrines, such as free salvation by the atoning sacrifice of the co-equal 
Son of God, and sanctification by the Spirit, she considered as essen- 
tial, and worth contending for ; but disputes on minor, unessential 
points, she considered as injurious to the peace, harmony, and best 
interests of religion, and would not waste her time in studying them, 



MRS. MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY, 391 

any farther than making up her own opinion on particular points, 
from what appeared to her own mind, to be revealed in the word of 
God. If that was silent, or did not decide for or against any opinion 
or practice, she took no farther pains in the investigation. 

In discharging relative duties, Mrs. Ramsay was exemplary. As 
a child, she had a high opinion of parental authority ; and to it she 
conceived herself as owing implicit obedience in every case not 
plainly inconsistent with her duty to God. It was, therefore, a stand- 
ing order to her servants, without a moment of delay, and without 
announcing the circumstance, to call her, not only from business but 
from her most private retirement whenever her father had occasion 
for her services. Never was there a daughter more devoted, attach- 
ed and obedient to her parent than she was : and her conduct flowed, 
not from instinct, accident or example but from principle. In the 
same manner she had determined what were her conjugal duties. 
She was well acquainted with the plausible reasonings of modem 
theorists, who contend for the equality of the sexes; and few females 
could support their claims to that equality on better grounds than she 
might advance ; but she yielded all pretensions on this score, in con- 
formity to the positive declarations of holy writ, of which the follow- 
ing were full to the point, and in her opinion outweighed whole vol- 
umes of human reasoning. " In sorrow thou shalt bring forth chil- 
dren, and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over 
thee." Gen. hi, 16. "Wives submit yourselves unto your own hus- 
hands as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, 
even as Christ also is the head of the church ; and he is the Savior of 
the body. Therefore as the Church is subject unto Christ, so let the 
wives be to their own husbands in every thing." Eph. v. 22, 23, 24. 
In practice as well as theory she acknowledged the dependent, sub- 
ordinate condition of her sex; and considered it as a part of the 
curse denounced on Eve, as being " the first in the transgression." 
1 Tim. ii. 13, 14. The most self denying duties of the conjugal re- 
lations being thus established on a divine founda'tion, and illustrated 
by those peculiar doctrines of revelation on which she hung all her 
hopes, the other duties followed by an easy train of reasoning, and 
were affectionately performed. In this manner, the subject of these 
memoirs used her Bible as a system of practical ethics, from which 
she acquired a knowledge of her true station, and also deduced such 
excellent rules of conduct in life, as might be expected from correct 
principles. As a parent who had brought children into a world of 
sin and misery, without their consent, she considered herself as 
bound, in common justice, to do every thing in her power for their 
comfort in passing through it. She thought no pains too great, no 
sacrifices too hard, provided her children were advanced by them. 
In addition to her steady attention to their education, she exerted 
herself to keep them constantly in good humor ; gave them every 
indulgence compatible with their best interests ; partook with thern 



392 MEMOIRS OF 

in their sports ; and in various ways amused their solitary hours so 
as often to drop the mother in the companion and friend ; took a 
lively interest in all their concerns, and made every practicable ex- 
ertion for their benefit. From the Bible she was taught, " Fathers, 
provoke not your children to anger, lest they be discouraged." 
Col. iii, 21. On this text, she often commented verbally, and every 
day practically. From it she drew several rules of conduct in her 
behavior toward her children. As a child, she was for implicit obe- 
dience ; but as a mother, was very moderate in urging her parental 
rights, and avoided, as far as consistent with a strict education, every 
thing which might " provoke her children to anger." Under this 
general head she considered as forbidden, unnecessary severity, sar- 
casms, and all taunting, harsh, unkind language ; overbearing con- 
duct, high-toned claims of superiority; capricious or whimsical ex- 
ertions of authority, and several other particulars, calculated to irri- 
tate children or fill them with terror. On the other hand, she con- 
sidered parents as required by this precept to curb their own tem- 
pers ; to bridle their passions ; to make proper allowances for indis- 
cretions and follies of youth ; and to behave toward their offspring 
in the most conciliatory manner, so as to secure their love and affec- 
tions on the score of gratitude. These and several other rules of 
conduct in the discharge of relative duties were not taken up at ran- 
dom, but derived from reason and reflection, and especially from an 
attentive consideration of the preceptive part of the word of God. 
Happy would it be for society, if all its members used their Bibles 
for similar purposes. 

Her maxim was, not to complain of God, but to God. To him 
she went with all her burdens and cares, and sweetly reposed on his 
almighty arm. Her unabated confidence in her Maker; her uncon- 
ditional submission and cheerful resignation to his will, took away 
from adversity its gloom, and threw over it a cheerful light. The 
workings of her mind, under these pressures, as recorded in her 
manuscripts, prove her high attainments in the christian life, and 
were probably one cause of them. In all her distresses, the burden 
of sin lay heavier on her mind than the burden of outward troubles. 
She was much more reconciled to death as closing the scene of her 
sinning, than that of her suffering. She found great satisfaction in 
reading Drelincourt on Death, and Watts's World to Come. Short- 
ly before her last sickness, she brought to her husband and request- 
ed him to read a speech delivered more than a hundred years ago at 
the grave of a pious person, by the Rev. Mr. Peter Sterry, which is 
preserved in the 352d page of Watts's World to Come. In it she 
had underscored the following sentiments, as expressive of her feel- 
ings, with respect to the contemplated approaching commitment of 
her body to the grave, and its consequent dissolution therein. 

" We do for ourselves and for this our dearly beloved in the Lord 
accept of thee, O grave, and readily deliver up her body to thee 



MRS. MARTHA LAURENS RAMSAY. 393 

It is a body that hath been weakened and wearied with long afflic- 
tion and anguish ; we freely give it unto thee ; receive it, and let it 
have in thee a quiet rest from all its labors ; for thus we read it writ- 
ten of thee, ' There the wicked cease from troubling, and there the 
weary are at rest.' 

" But we know thee, O grave, to be also a devourer, and yet we 
can freely deliver up the body unto thee. There was in it a con- 
tracted corruptibility, dishonor, and weakness; take them as thy 
proper prey; they belong to thee, and we would not withhold them 
from thee. Freely swallow them up for ever, that they may appear 
no more. 

" Yet, know, O grave, that there is in the body, considered as once 
united to such a soul, a divine relation to the Lord of life, and this 
thou must not, thou canst not dissolve nor destroy. But know, and 
even before thee, and over thee be it spoken, that there is a season 
hastening wherein we shall expect it again from thee in incorruption, 
honor, and power. 

" We now sow it unto thee in dishonor, but expect it again return- 
ed from thee in glory. We now sow it unto thee in weakness ; we 
expect it again in power. We now sow it unto thee a natural body; 
we look for it again from thee a spiritual body." 

The life of Miss Carter was one of the last books Mrs. Ramsay 
read ; and she indulged the pleasing anticipation of speedily forming 
an acquaintance with a woman of her fervent piety and great attain- 
ments. But of all the inhabitants of heaven, she longed most for the 
acquaintance of Dr. Watts, whose divine songs, most of which she 
had committed to memory, had administered much to her comfort 
by night and by day. 

From the first moment of her last sickness, she had a presenti- 
ment that she would not survive it. This gave her no alarm. She 
made preparations for, and arranged the circumstances of her fu- 
neral, with the same calmness and self possession she would have 
done in the days of her best health, when preparing for a journey or 
voyage. She directed that her funeral should be private ; her coffin 
plain and without a plate ; that Dr. Hollinshead should perform his 
ministerial duties on the occasion in her own house, before a few of 
her most particular friends. Her coffin was accordingly made of 
Carolina cedar. After she had given these directions, her disease 
seemed to yield ; but she insisted that her feelings convinced her to 
the contrary. She suffered grievous pains in sundry periods of her 
last illness. To assist her in supporting under them, she deliberate- 
ly surveyed her manifold sins as the procuring cause of all pain, and 
also took a distinct view of the sufferings of Christ, and then asked 
herself, shall not I who have so grievously sinned, quietly submit to 
pain, which I deserve, since the innocent Jesus suffered so much for 
me ? On the last day but one of her life, she lay for some consid- 
erable time in a warm bath. While there, she directed the following 

50 



394 memoirs, &c. 

hymn, from a collection of hymns presented to her by the Countess 
of Huntingdon, to be read to her. 

When languor and disease invade 

This trembling house of clay, 
'Tis sweet to look beyond our cage, 

And long to fly away. 

Sweet to look inward and attend 

The whispers of his love ; 
Sweet to look upward to the place 

Where Jesus dwells above. 

Sweet to look back and see my name 

In life's fair book set down ; 
Sweet to look forward and behold 

Eternal joys my own. 

Sweet to reflect how grace divine 

My sins on Jesus laid ; 
Sweet to remember that his blood 

My debt of suff'ring paid. 

Sweet in his righteousness to stand. 

Which saves from second death ; 
Sweet to experience day by day, 

His Spirit's quick'ning breath. 

Sweet on his faithfulness to rest, 

Whose love can never end ; 
Sweet on his covenant of grace 

For all things to depend. 

Sweet in the confidence of faith 

To trust his firm decrees ; 
Sweet to lie passive in his hands 

And know no will but his. 

If such the sweetness of the streams. 

What must the fountain be, 
Where saints and angels draw the bliss 

Immediately from Thee. 

She repeated the two last lines of every verse with eyes directed 
to heaven, as expressive of their coincidence with her views. She 
had frequently, in the course of her sickness, given animated ex- 
hortations to her children and others, to make choice of God for 
their portion, and also particular directions how to manage the family 
after she was gone. About 4 o'clock, P. M. June 10th, 1811, she 
asked her husband and children if they were willing to give her up. 
They evaded the question ; but she in direct terms informed them 
that she had sometimes felt a repugnance to death on their accounts, 
but assured them that God had now made her entirely willing to 
give them all up ; and in about an hour after expired. 

From The Life of Mrs. Ramsay by her husband, David Ramsay, M. D. 



395 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 



Isabella Marshall, (afterwards Mrs. Graham,) was born on the 
29th of July, 1742, in the shire of Lanark, in Scotland. Her grand- 
father was one of the elders who quitted the established church with 
the Rev. Messrs. Ralph and Ebenezer Erskine. She was educated 
in the principles of the church of Scotland. Her father and mother 
were both pious : indeed, her mother, whose maiden name was Ja- 
net Hamilton, appears, from her letters, yet extant, to have possessed 
a mind of the same character as her daughter afterwards exhibited. 

Isabella was trained to an active life, as well as favored with a su- 
perior education. Her grandfather, whose dying bed she had as- 
siduously attended, bequeathed her a legacy of some hundred pounds. 
In the use to which she applied this money, the soundness of her 
judgment thus early manifested itself. She requested it might be 
appropriated to the purpose of giving her a finished education. 
When ten years of age, she was sent to a boarding school taught by 
a lady of distinguished talents and piety. Often has Mrs. Graham 
repeated to her children the maxims of Mrs. Betty Morehead. 
With ardent and unwearied endeavors to attain mental endowments, 
and especially moral and religious knowledge, she attended the in- 
structions of Mrs. Morehead for seven successive winters. How 
valuable is early instruction ! with the blessing of God, it is proba- 
ble that this instructress has laid the foundation of the exertions and 
usefulness of her pupil in after life. How wise and how gracious 
are the ways of the Lord ! Knowing the path in which he was af- 
terwards to lead Isabella Marshall, her God was pleased to provide 
her an education of a much higher kind than was usual in those 
days. Who would not trust that God who alone can be the guide 
of our youth ? 

Her father, John Marshall, farmed a paternal estate, called the 
Heads, near Hamilton. This estate he sold, and rented the estate 
of Eldersley, once the habitation of Sir William Wallace. There 
Isabella passed her childhod and her youth. She had no precise 
recollection of the period at which her heart first tasted that the 
Lord was gracious. As long as she could remember, she took de- 
light in pouring out her soul to her God. 

In the woods of Eldersley she selected a bush, to which she re- 
sorted in seasons of devotion ; under this bush, she was enabled to 
devote herself to God, through faith in her Redeemer, before she 
had attained to her tenth year. To this favorite, and to her sacred 
spot, she would repair, when exposed to temptation, or perplexed 



396 MEMOIRS OF 

with childish troubles. From thence she caused her prayers to as- 
cend, and always found peace and consolation. 

Children cannot at too early a period seek the favor of the God 
of heaven. How blessed to be reared and fed by his hand, taught 
by his Spirit, and strengthened by his grace ! 

The late Rev. Dr. Witherspoon, afterwards President of Prince- 
ton College, was at this time one of the ministers of the town of 
Paisley. Isabella sat under his ministry, and at the age of seven- 
teen she was admitted by him to the sacrament of the Lord's sup- 
per. In the year 1765, she was married to Dr. John Graham, then 
a practising physician in Paisley, a gentleman of liberal education, 
and of respectable standing. 

About a year after their marriage, Dr. Graham was ordered to 
join his regiment, the Royal Americans, then stationed in Canada. 

Before they sailed for America, a plan had been digested for their 
permanent residence in that country. Dr. Graham calculated on 
disposing of his commission, and purchasing a tract of land on the 
Mohawk river, to which his father-in-law, Mr. Marshall, and his 
family, were to follow him. 

The regiment was quartered at Montreal for several months, and 
here Jessie, the eldest daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Graham, was born. 
They afterwards removed to Fort Niagara, on Lake Ontario, and 
continued in garrison there for four years ; here Joanna and Isabella 
Graham were born. Mrs. Graham always considered the time she 
passed at Niagara as the happiest of her days, considered in a tem- 
poral view. The officers of the regiment were amiable men, and 
attached to each other. A few of them were married, and their la- 
dies were united in the ties of friendship. The society there, se- 
cluded from the world, exempt from the collision of individual and 
separate interests, which often create so much discord in large com- 
munities ; and studious to promote the happiness of each other, en- 
joyed that tranquillity and contentment, which ever accompany a 
disinterested interchange of friendly offices. This fort being in a 
situation detached from other settlements, the garrison were conse- 
quently deprived of ordinances, and the public means of grace ; the 
life of religion in the soul of Mrs. Graham was therefore at a low 
ebb. A conscientious observance of the sabbath, which throughout 
life she maintained, proved to her at Niagara as a remembrance and 
revival of devotional exercises. She wandered, on those sacred 
days, into the woods around Niagara, searched her Bible, communed 
with her God, and herself, and poured out her soul in prayer to her 
covenant Lord. Throughout the week, the attention of her friends, 
her domestic comfort and employments, and the amusements pur- 
sued in the garrison, she used to confess, occupied too much of her 
lime, and of her affections. 

Here we behold a little society enjoying much comfort and happi- 
ness in each other, yet falling short of that pre-eminent duty, and 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 39T 

superior blessedness of glorifying, as they ought to have done, the 
God of heaven, who fed them by his bounty, and offered them a full 
and free salvation in the gospel of his Son. No enjoyments, nor 
possessions, however ample and acceptable, can crown the soul with 
peace and true felicity, unless accompanied with the fear and favor 
of Him, who can speak' pardon to the transgressor, and shed abroad 
his love in the hearts of his children : thus giving an earnest of spir- 
itual and eternal blessedness, along with temporal good. 

The commencement of the revolutionary struggle in America, 
rendered it necessary, in the estimation of the British government, 
to order to another scene of action, the sixtieth regiment, composed 
in a great measure of Americans. 

Their destination was the island of Antigua ; Dr. Graham, Mrs. 
Graham, and their family, consisting now of three infant daughters, 
and two young Indian girls, crossed the woods from Niagara to Os- 
wegatche, and from thence descended the Mohawk in batteaux to 
Schenectady. Here Dr. Graham left his family, and went to New 
York to complete a negociation he had entered into for the sale of 
his commission, to enable him to settle, as he originally intended, on 
a tract of land which it was in his power to purchase on the banks 
of the river they had just descended. The gentleman proposing to 
purchase his commission, not being able to perfect the arrangement 
in time, Dr. Graham found himself under the necessity of proceed- 
ing to Antigua with the regiment. Mrs. Graham, on learning this, 
hurried down with her family to accompany him, although he had 
left it optional with her to remain. 

At New York they were treated with much kindness by the late 
Rev. Dr. John Rodgers, and others, especially by the family of 
Mr. Vanbrugh Livingston. With Mr. Livingston's daughter, the 
wife of Major Brown of the sixtieth regiment, Mrs. Graham form- 
ed a very warm friendship, which continued during the life of Mrs. 
Brown. 

On their arrival in Antigua, Mrs. Graham was introduced to the 
families of two brothers, of the name of Gilbert, gentlemen of prop- 
erty, and great piety. They were connected with the Methodists, 
and by their pious exertions and exemplary lives, with the blessing 
of God, became instruments of much good, to many in that island. 

Dr. and Mrs. Graham participated largely in the hospitality and 
friendship of many respectable families at St. Johns. 

Dr. Graham was absent in St. Vincents for some months; having 
accompanied, as surgeon, a military force, under Major Etherin^tcn, 
sent thither to quell an insurrection of the Caribbeans. 

On his return to Antigua, he found Mrs. Graham almost inconso- 
lable for the loss of her valuable mother, the tidings of whose death 
had just reached her. He roused her from this state of mind, by 
saying, that "God mighl perhaps call her to a severer trial, by taking 
her husband also.'' The warning appeared prophetic. On the 17th 



398 MEMOIRS OF 

November, 1774, he was seized with a feverish disorder, which did 
not appear for the first three days to be alarming in the estimation of 
attending physicians ; yet it increased afterwards with such violence, 
as to terminate his mortal existence on the 22d. The whole course 
of the Doctor's illness, produced a most interesting scene. He cal- 
culated on death ; expressed his perfect resignation ; gave his testi- 
mony to the emptiness of a world, in which its inhabitants are too 
much occupied in pursuing bubbles, which vanish into air ; and died 
in the hope of faith in that divine Redeemer, who is able to save to 
the uttermost all that come unto God by Him. At the commence- 
ment of her husband's illness, Mrs. Graham entertained no appre- 
hensions of danger to his life. When hope as to continuance of 
temporal life was extinguished, her anxiety for his spiritual and eter^ 
oal welfare exercised her whole soul. When he breathed his last, 
gratitude to God, and joy at the testimony he had given of dying in 
the faith of Jesus, afforded a support to her mind, which the painful 
feelings of her heart could not immediately shake : but when the 
awful solemnities were over — earth to earth, dust to dust — and the 
spirit gone to God who gave it — when all was still, and she was a 
widow indeed — that tenderness of soul, and sympathy of friendship, 
for which Mrs. Graham was ever remarkable, were brought into se- 
vere and tumultuous exercise. Her husband, companion, protector, 
was gone ; a man of superior mind, great taste, warm affection, and 
domestic habits. She was left with three daughters, the eldest of 
whom was not over five years of age ; and with the prospect of 
having another child in a few months. Of temporal property, she 
possessed very little : she was at a distance from her father's house : 
the widow and the fatherless were in a foreign land. The change 
in her circumstances was as sudden as it was great. 

She had now no sympathizing heart, to receive and return the 
confidence of unbounded friendship ; and thus, by reciprocal com- 
munion, to alleviate the trials and enrich the enjoyments of life. All 
the pleasing plans, all the cherished prospects, of future settlement 
in life, were cut off in a moment. Whilst sinking into a softened 
indifference to the world, in the contemplation of her severe loss, 
she was, on the other hand, roused into exertion for the sustenance 
and support of her young family, whose earthly dependence was 
now necessarily upon her. 

Not satisfied with the custom of the island, in burying so soon af- 
ter life is extinct, her uneasiness became so great, that her friends 
judged it prudent to have her husband's grave opened, to convince 
her that no symptoms of returning life bad been exhibited there. 
The fidelity of her heart was now as strongly marked as her tender- 
ness. She dressed herself in the habiliments of a widow, and sur- 
veying herself in a mirror, determined never to lay them aside. 
This she strictly adhered to, and rejected every overture, afterwards 
made to her, of again entering into the married state. She breathed 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 399 

the feelings of her heart in a little poem, in which she dedicated 
herself to her God as a widow indeed. 

On examining into the state of her husband's affairs, she discover- 
ed that there remained not quite two hundred pounds sterling in his 
agent's hands. 

These circumstances afforded an opportunity for the display of 
the purity of Mrs. Graham's principles, and her rigid adherence to 
the commandments of her God in every situation. 

It was proposed to her, and urged with much argument, to sell 
the two Indian girls, her late husband's property. 

No considerations of interest, nor necessity, could prevail upon 
her to make merchandise of her fellow creatures, the works of her 
heavenly Father's hand ; immortai beings. One of these girls ac- 
companied her to Scotland, where she was married ; the other died 
in Antigua, leaving an affectionate testimony to the kindness of her 
dear master and mistress. 

It may be profitable here, to look at Mrs. Graham, contrasted 
with the society in temporal prosperity around her. Many persons 
then in Antigua, w T ere busy and successful in the accumulation of 
wealth, to the exclusion of every thought, tending to holiness, to 
God, and to heaven. The portion which they desired they possess- 
ed. What then ? they are since gone to another world. The mag- 
ic of the words, " my property," " an independent fortune," has 
been dispelled ; and that for which they toiled, and in which they 
gloried, has since passed into a hundred hands : the illusion is vanish- 
ted, and unless they made their peace with God through the blood of 
the cross, they left this world, and alas ! found no heaven before 
them. But amidst apparent affliction and outward distress, God was 
preparing the heart of this widow, by the discipline of his covenant, 
for future usefulness ; to be a blessing, probably, to the thousands of 
her race, and to enter, finally, on that rest ivhich remaineth for the 
people of God. 

Her temporal support, was not in her esteem, " an independent 
fortune," but a life of dependence on the care of her heavenly Fa- 
ther : she had more delight in suffering and doing his will, than in 
all riches. " The secret of the Lord, is with those who fear him, 
and he will show them his covenant." To those who walk with God, 
he will show the way in which they should go, and their experience 
will assure them that he directs their paths. ' : Bread shall be given 
them, and their water shall be sure." She passed through many tri- 
als of a temporal nature, but she was comforted of her God through 
them all ; and at last was put in possession of an eternal treasure in 
heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, nor thieves break 
through and steal. May this contrast be solemnly examined, and 
the example of this child of God made a blessing to many ! 

Previously to her confinement, and the birth of her son, Mrs. 
Graham set her house in order, in the probable expectation of he\ 



400 MEMOIRS OF 

decease. She wrote a letter to her father in Scotland, commending 
her young family to his protection ; also a letter to her friend Mrs. 
G — , giving the charge of her affairs, and of her family, to her and 
her husband Captain G — , during their stay in Antigua. 

In this letter she expressed her full confidence in the friendship of 
Mrs. G — , but at the same time declared her solicitude about her 
indifference to spiritual concerns ; and dealt very faithfully with her 
conscience, as to the propriety and necessity of her being more en- 
gaged to seek the favor of God, through the mediation and atone- 
ment of the blessed Redeemer. 

It pleased God, however, to preserve her life at this time ; and 
she soon after dedicated her infant son to her God in baptism : giv- 
ing him the name of his father John. 

Having now no object to induce her to stay longer at Antigua, 
she disposed of her slender property, and placing her money into the 
hands of Major Brown, requested him to take a passage for herself 
and family, and to lay in their sea stores. 

Mrs. Graham, after seeing a railing placed around the grave of 
her beloved husband, that his remains might not be disturbed until 
mingled with their kindred dust, bade adieu to her kind friends, and 
with a sorrowful heart, turned her face towards her native land. No 
ship offering for Scotland at this time, she embarked with her family in 
one bound to Belfast in Ireland. Major Brown and his brother offi- 
cers saw her safely out to sea ; and he gave her a letter to a gentle- 
man in Belfast, containing as he said a bill for the balance of the 
money she had deposited with him. After a stormy and trying voy- 
age, she arrived in safety at her destined port. The correspondent 
in Ireland of Major Brown, delivered her a letter from that officer, 
expressive of esteem and affection ; and stating, that as a proof of 
respect for the memory of their deceased friend, he and his brother 
officers had taken the liberty of defraying the expenses of her 
voyage. 

Consequently, the bill he had given was for the full amount of her 
original deposit ; and thus, like the brethren of Joseph, she found 
all her money in the sack's mouth. Being a stranger in Ireland, 
without a friend to look out for a proper vessel, in which to embark 
for Scotland, she and her children went passengers in a packet; on 
board of which, as she afterwards learned, there was not even a 
compass. A great storm arose, and they were tossed to and fro for 
nine hours in imminent danger. The rudder and the mast were 
carried away ; every thing on deck thrown overboard : and at length 
the vessel struck in the night upon a rock, on the coast of Ayr, in 
Scotland. The greatest confusion pervaded the passengers and 
crew. Amongst a number of young students going to the Universi- 
ty at Edinburgh, some were swearing, some praying and all were in 
despair. The widow only remained composed. With her babe in 
her arms, she hushed her weeping family, and told them, that in a 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 401 

few minutes they should all go to join their father in a better world. 
The passengers wrote their names in their pocket books, that their 
bodies might be recognized, and reported for the information of 
their friends. One young man came into the cabin asking, " is there 
any peace here ?" He was surprised to find a female so tranquil ; 
a short conversation soon evinced that religion was the source and 
hope to them both in this perilous hour. He engaged in prayer, 
and then read the 107th Psalm. While repeating these words, "he 
maketk the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still" the ves- 
sel swung off the rock by the rising of the tide. She had been 
dashing against it for an hour and a half, the sea making a breach over 
her, so that the hold was now nearly filled with water. Towards 
morning the storm subsided, and the vessel floated until she rested 
on a sand bank. Assistance was afforded from the shore, and the 
shipwrecked company took shelter in a small inn, where the men 
semeed anxious to drown the remembrance of danger in a bowl of 
punch. How faithful a monitor is conscience ! this voice is listened 
to in extreme peril ; but oh, infatuated man ! how anxious art thou 
to stifle the warnings of wisdom in the hour of prosperity ! thou- 
sands of our race, no doubt delay their preparation for eternity, until 
by sudden death, scarce a moment's time is left to perform this solemn 
work. 

Mrs. Graham retired to a private room to offer up thanksgiving 
to God for his goodness, and to commend herself and her orphans 
to his future care. 

A gentleman from Ayr, hearing of the shipwreck, came down to 
offer assistance; and in him Mrs. Graham was happy enough to re- 
cognize an old friend. This gentleman paid her and her family much 
attention, carrying them to his ow T n house, and treating them with 
kindness and hospitality. 

In a day or two after this, she reached Cartside, and entered her 
father's dwelling ; not the large ancient mansion, in which she had 
left him, but a thatched cottage, consisting of three apartments. 
Possessed of a too easy temper, and unsuspecting disposition, Mr. 
Marshall had been induced to become security for some of his friends 
whose failure in business had reduced him to poverty. He now ac- 
ted as factor of a gentleman's estate in this neighborhood, of whose 
father he had been the intimate friend, with a salary of twenty pounds 
sterling per annum, and the use of a small farm. 

In a short time, however, his health failed him, and he was depri- 
ved of this scanty pittance, being incapable, as the proprietor was 
pleased to think, of fulfilling the duties of factor. 

Alive to every call of duty, Mrs. Graham now considered her fa- 
ther as added with her children, to the number of dependents on her 
industry. She proved, indeed, a good daughter ; faithful, affection- 
ate and dutiful, she supported her father through his declining years ; 
and he died at her house, during her residence in Edinburgh, sur- 
al 



402 MEMOIRS OF 

rounded by his daughter and her children, who tenderly watched 
him through his last illness. 

From Cartside, she removed to Paisley, where she taught a small 
school. The slender profits of such an establishment, with a wid- 
ow's pension of sixteen pounds sterling, were the means of subsis- 
tence for herself and her family. When she first returned to Cart- 
side, a few religious friends called to welcome her home. The gay 
and wealthy part of her former acquaintance, flutterers who, like the 
butterfly, spread their silken wings, only to bask in the warmth of a 
summer sun, found not their way to the lonely cottage of an afflicted 
widow. Her worth, although in after life, rendered splendid by its 
own fruits, was at this time hidden, excepting to those whose reflec- 
tion and wisdom, had taught them to discern it more in the faith and 
submission of the soul, than in the selfish and extravagant exhibi- 
tions of that wealth, bestowed by the bounty of providence, but ex- 
pended too often for the purposes of vanity and dissipation. 

In such circumstances, the christian character of Mrs. Graham 
was strongly marked. Sensible that her heavenly Father saw it 
good, at this time, to depress her outward condition, full of filial ten- 
derness, and like a real child of God, resigned to whatever should 
appear to be his will, her conduct conformed to his dispensations. 
With a cheerful heart, and in the hope of faith, she set herself to 
walk down into the valley of humiliation, leaning upon Jesus, as the 
beloved of her soul. 1 delight to do thy will, Oh my God, yea, thy 
law is ivithin my heart, was the spontaneous effusion of her genuine 
faith. She received, with affection, the scriptural admonition, Hum- 
hie yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may 
exalt you in due time : casting all your care upon him ; for he careth 
for you. 

She laid aside her children's fine frocks and clothed them in home- 
spun. At Cartside, she sold the butter she made, and her children 
were fed on milk. It was her wish to eat her own bread, however 
coarse, and to owe no person any thing but love. At Paisley, for a 
season, her breakfast and supper was porridge, and her dinner pota- 
toes and salt. Peace with God, and a contented mind, supplied the 
lack of earthly prosperity, and she adverted to this her humble fare, 
to comfort the hearts of suffering sisters, with whom she correspond- 
ed at a later period of life, when in comfortable circumstances. 

Meantime the Lord was not unmindful of his believing child ; but 
was preparing the minds of her friends for introducing her to a more 
enlarged sphere of usefulness. 

Her pious and attached friend, Mrs. Major Brown, had accompa- 
nied her husband to Scotland, and they now resided on their estate in 
Ayrshire. Mr. Peter Reid, a kind friend when in Antigua, was now 
a merchant in London. This gentleman advised her to invest the 
little money she had brought home, (and which she had still preserv- 
ed,) in muslins ; which she could work into finer articles of dress j 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 403 

and he would ship them in a vessel of his own, freight free, to be 
sold in the West Indies. His object was partly to increase her little 
capital, and partly to divert her mind from meditating so deeply on 
the loss of her lamented husband. 

She shed so many tears while at Cartside, as to injure her eye- 
sight, and to render the use of spectacles necessary : she adopted 
his plan ; the muslin dresses were shipped ; but she soon afterwards 
learned that the ship was captured by the French. This a severe 
blow to her temporal property, and more deeply felt, as it was receiv- 
ed at the time when her father was deprived of his office. 

Mrs. Brown, after consulting with the Rev. Mr. Randall, of Glas- 
gow ; the Rev. Mr. Ellis, of Paisley ; lady Glenorchy and Mrs. 
Walker, of Edinburgh ; proposed to Mrs. Graham to take charge of 
a boarding school in the metropolis. 

The friends of religion were of opinion, that such an establishment, 
under the direction of such a character as Mrs. Graham, would be of 
singular benefit to young ladies, destined for important stations in so- 
ciety. Her liberal education, her acquaintance with life, and her 
humble, yet ardent piety, were considered peculiarly calculated to 
qualify her for so important a trust. 

Another friend had suggested to Mrs. Graham the propriety of 
opening a boarding house in Edinburgh, which he thought could, 
through his influence, be easily filled by students. 

She saw obstacles to both ; a boarding house did not appear suit- 
able, as her daughters would not be so likely to have the same ad- 
vantages of education as from a boarding school. To engage as an 
instructress of youth on so large a scale, with so many competitors, 
appeared for her, an arduous undertaking. 

In this perplexity, as in former trials, she fled to her unerring 
counsellor, the Lord, her covenant God. She set apart a day for 
fasting and prayer. She spread her case before the Lord, earnestly 
beseeching him to make his word a light to her feet, and a lamp to 
her path; and to lead her in (he way in which she should go; es- 
pecially, that she might be directed to choose the path, in which she 
could best promote his glory, and the best interests of herself and 
her children. On searching the scriptures, her mind fastened on 
these words, in John xxi, 15, Simon, son of Jonas, lovest thou me 
more than these? He saith unto him, yea, Lord ; thou Jcnoivesi that 
I love thee; he said unto him, feed my lambs. 

Never, perhaps, was this commandment applied with more energy, 
nor accompanied with a richer blessing since the days of the Apostle, 
ihan in the present instance. 

Her determination was accordingly made. She resolved to un- 
dertake the education of youth, trusting that her Lord would make 
her a humble instrument to feed his lambs. Here was exhibited an 
instance of simple, yet powerful faith in a believer, surrounded by 
temporal perplexities; and of condescension and mercy on the part of 



404 MEMOIRS OF 

a compassionate God. Light, unseen by mortal eyes, descended on 
her path. 

Although her faith was strong, yet her mind was under such agita- 
tion, from her total want of funds to carry her plan into effect, and 
from other conflicting exercises, as to throw her into a nervous fever, 
which kept her confined to her bed for some weeks. On her recov- 
ery, she felt it her duty to go forward, trusting that He who had di- 
rected her path, would provide the means that were necessary to 
enable her to walk in it : she sold her heavy furniture, packed up 
all her remaining effects, and prepared to set out from Paisley for 
Edinburgh on a Monday, sometime in the year 1780. 

On the Saturday previous, she sat by her fire, musing, and won- 
dering in what manner the Lord would appear for her at this time, 
when a letter was brought to her from Mr. Peter Reid, enclosing a 
sum of money which he had recovered from the underwriters, on 
account of Mrs. Graham's muslins, captured on their passage to the 
West Indies. Mrs. Graham had considered them as totalrjTtost, but 
her friend had taken the precaution to have them insured. 

With this supply she was enabled to accomplish her object, and 
arrived in Edinburgh with her family. Her friend, Mrs. Brown, met 
her there, and stayed with her a few days, to comfort and patronize 
her in her new undertaking. Mrs. Brown was her warm and con- 
stant friend, until her death, which happened at Paisley it 1782, when 
she was attending the communion. She bequeathed her daughter 
Mary to Mrs, Graham's care. But in 1735 the daughter followed 
the mother, being cut off by a fever in the twelfth year of her age. 

It may be proper here to introduce the name of Mr. George An- 
derson, a merchant in Glasgow, who had been an early and particu- 
lar friend of Dr. Graham. He kindly offered his friendly services, 
and the use of his purse, to promote the welfare of the bereaved 
family of his friend. Mrs. Graham occasionally drew upon both. 
The money she borrowed, she had the satisfaction of repaying with 
interest. 

A correspondence was carried on between them after Mrs. Gra- 
ham's removal to America, until the death of Mr. Anderson in 1802. 
Such was the acknowledged integrity of this gentleman, that he was 
very generally known in Glasgow by the appellation of " honest 
George Anderson." 

During her residence in Edinburgh, she was honored with the 
friendship and counsel of many persons of distinction and piety. 
The viscountess Glenorchy ; lady Ross Baillie ; lady Jane Belches ; 
Mrs. Walter Scott, (mother of the poet ;) Mrs. Dr. Davidson ; Mrs. 
Baillie Walker, were amongst her warm personal friends. The Rev. 
Dr. Erskine, and Dr. Davidson, (formerly the Rev. Mr. Randall, of 
Glasgow,) and many respectable clergymen, were also her friends. 
She and her family attended on the ministry of Dr. Davidson, an 
,;;bJc, evangelical, useful pastor. 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 405 

Her school soon became respectable, in numbers and character. 
Her early and superior education now proved of essential service to 
her. She was indefatigable in her attention to the instruction of her 
pupils. While she was faithful in giving them those accomplishments 
which were to qualify them for acting a distinguished part in this 
world, she was also zealous in directing their attention to that Gospel, 
by which they were instructed to obtain an inheritance in the eternal 
world. She felt a high responsibility, and took a deep interest in 
their temporal and spiritual welfare. As a mother in Israel, she wish- 
ed to train them up in the ways of the Lord. 

She prayed with them morning and evening, and on the sabbath, 
which she was careful to devote to its proper use, she took great 
pains to imbue their minds with the truths of religion. Nor did she 
labor in vain. Although she was often heard to lament of how little 
use she had been, compared with her opportunities of doing good, 
yet when her children, Mr. and Mrs. Bethune, visited Scotland in 
1801, they heard of many characters, then pious and exemplary, 
who dated their first religious impressions from those seasons of 
early instruction which they enjoyed under Mrs. Graham, while in 
Edinburgh. 

Mrs. Graham's manner in the management of youth, was peculiar- 
ly happy. Whilst she kept them diligent in their studies, and strictly 
obedient the laws she had established, she was endeared to them by 
her tenderness ; and the young ladies instructed in her school,' re- 
tained for her in after life a degree of filial affection, which showed 
itself unequivocally wherever opportunities offered to test it. This 
was afterwards remarkably the case with her pupils in America. 
Her little republic was completely governed by a system of equitable 
laws. On every alleged offence, a court martial, as they termed it, 
was held, and the accused tried by her peers. There were no arbi- 
trary punishments, no sallies of capricious passion. The laws were 
promulgated and must be obeyed. The sentences of the courts 
martial were always approved, and had a salutary effect. In short, 
there was a combination of authority, decision and tendernes, in Mrs. 
Graham's government, that rendered its subjects industrious, intelli- 
gent, circumspect, and happy. She enjoyed their happiness ; and 
in cases of sickness, she watched her patients with unremitting soli- 
citude and care, sparing no expense to promote their restoration to 
health. 

A strong trait in her character was distinctly marked by one rule 
she had adopted, viz. to educate the daughters of pious ministers at 
half price. This was setting an example worthy of imitation. It 
was a conduct conformable to scriptural precept. Said Paul, If we 
have sown unto you spiritual things, is it a great thing if ive shall 
reap your carnal things ? Do ye not know that they which minister 
about holy things, live of the things of the temple? Even so hath the 
Lord ordained that they which preach the gospel should live by the 
gospel. 



406 MEMOIRS OF 

It was customary with lady Glenorchy to remark, that two of Mrs. 
Graham's friends held a band around her waist, when she approach- 
ed the boundaries between religion and the world, to prevent her from 
falling over. 

Lady Glenorchy being in a delicate state of health, made frequent 
use of Mrs. Graham as her almoner to the poor. On one of these 
visits, Mrs. Graham called on a poor woman, with a present of a new 
gown. " I am obliged to you and her ladyship for your kindness," 
said the poor woman, rich in faith ; " but I maun gang to the right 
airth first, ye wad na hae come, gin ye had na been sent ; the Lord 
hath left me lately wi but ae goon for week day and sabbath, but now 
he has sent you with a sabbath day's goon." Meaning in plain Eng- 
lish, that her thankfulness was first due to the God of providence, 
who had put it into the hearts of his children to supply the wants of 
this poor disciple. 

It being stated as a matter of regret, that poor people, when sick, 
suffered greatly, although while in health their daily labor supported 
them ; Mrs. Graham suggested the idea of every poor person in the 
neighborhood laying aside one penny a week, to form a fund for re- 
lieving the contributors when in sickness. Mr. Douglas undertook 
the formation of such an Institution. It went for a long time under 
the name of " The Penny Society." It afterwards received a more 
liberal patronage, has now a handsome capital, and is called " The 
Society for the relief of the Destitute Sick." 

In July 1786, Mrs. Graham attended the dying bed of her friend 
and patroness, lady Glenorchy : this lady had shown her friendship in 
a variety of ways during her valuable life ; she had one of Mrs. Gra- 
ham's daughters for some time in her family ; condescended herself 
to instruct her, and sent her for a year to a French boarding school 
in Rotterdam. She defrayed all her expenses while there, and fur- 
nished her with a liberal supply of pocket money, that she might not 
see distress without the power of relieving it. So much does a per- 
son's conduct in maturer years depend upon the habits of early life, 
that it is wise to accustom young people to feel for, and to contribute 
in their degree to the relief ol, the afflicted and the needy. 

Mrs. Graham had the honor of attending the death bed, and of 
closing the eyes of this distinguished child of God. It had been 
lady Glenorchy's express desire that Mrs. Graham should be sent for 
to attend her dying bed, if within twenty miles of her when such at- 
tendance should be necessary. 

When Dr. Witherspoon visited Scotland in the year 1785, he had 
frequent conversations with Mrs. Graham, on the subject of her re- 
moval to America. She gave him at this time some reason to calcu- 
late on her going thither as soon as her children should have comple- 
ted the course of education she had proposed for them. 

Mrs. Graham had entertained a strong partiality for America ever 
since her former residence there, and had indulged a secret expecta- 
tion of returning thither. 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM, 407 

It was her opinion, and that of many pious people, that America 
was the country where the Church of Christ would eventually flour- 
ish. She was therefore desirous to leave her offspring there. 

After some correspondence with Dr. Witherspoon, and consulta- 
tion with pious friends, she received the approbation of the latter to 
her plan. She had an invitation from many respectable characters in 
the city of New York, with assurances of patronage and support. 
She arranged her affairs for quitting Edinburgh. The Algerines be- 
ing then at war with the United States, her friends insisted on her 
chartering a small British vessel to carry herself and family to the 
port of New York. This increased her expenses ; but providence, 
in faithfulness and mercy, sent her at this time a remittance from Dr. 
Henderson ; and a legacy of two hundred pounds bequeathed her by 
lady Glenorchy as a mark of her regard, was of great use to her in 
her present circumstances. 

Thus in the month of July, 1789, Mrs. Graham once more pre- 
pared to go into a land which the Lord seemed to tell her of; and 
after a pleasant, though tedious voyage, she landed in New York on 
the 8th day of September. 

At New York she and her family were received with the greatest 
cordiality and confidence. The late Rev. Dr. Rodgers and Dr. 
Mason were especially kind to her. She came eminently prepared 
to instruct her pupils in all the higher branches of female education : 
the favorable change effected by her exertions in this respect, was 
soon visible in the minds, manners, and accomplishments of the young 
ladies committed to her care. She opened her school on the 5th of 
October, 1789, with five scholars, and before the end of the same 
month, the number increased to fifty. She not only imparted knowl- 
edge to her pupils, but also by her conversation and example, pre- 
pared their minds to receive it in such a manner as to apply it to 
practical advantage. Whilst she taught them to regard external ac- 
complishments as ornaments to the female character, she was careful 
to recommend the practice of virtue as the highest accomplishment 
of all, and to inculcate the principles of religion as the only solid 
foundation for morality and virtue. The annual examination of her 
scholars were always well attended, and gave great satisfaction. 
General Washington, whilst at New York, honored her with his patron- 
age. The venerable and amiable Bishop of the Episcopal church 
in the state of New York, then the Rev. Dr. Benjamin Moore, never 
once was absent from those examinations. She was sensible of his 
friendship, and always spoke of him in terms of great esteem and 
respect. 

She united in communion with the Presbyterian Church under 
the pastoral care of the late Rev. Dr. John Mason. This excellent 
man was her faithful friend, and wise counsellor. Under his ministry 
her two daughters, Joanna and Isabella, joined the church in the year 
1791. Her eldest daughter Jessie, who had made a profession of 



408 



MEMOIRS OF 



religion in Scotland, was married in July, 1790, to Mr. Hay Steven- 
son, merchant of New York, and she became a member of the Pres- 
byterian Church under the care of Dr. Rodgers where her husband 
attended. 

In the year 1791, her son, who had been left in Scotland to com- 
plete his education, paid his mother a visit. Mrs. Graham, consider- 
ing herself as inadequate to the proper management of a boy, had at an 
early period of his life sent her son to the care of a friend, who had 
promised to pay due attention to his morals and education. The boy 
had a warm affectionate heart, but possessed, at the same time, a 
bold and fearless spirit. Such a disposition, under proper manage- 
ment, might have been formed into a noble character ; but he was 
neglected, and left in a great measure to himself by his first preceptor. 

For two years of his life, he was under the care of Mr. Murray, 
teacher of an academy at Abercorn. He was a man truly qualified 
for this station. He instructed his pupils with zeal ; led even their 
amusements ; and to an exemplary piety, added the faithful counsel 
of a friend. He loved, and was therefore beloved. Under his super- 
intendence, John Graham improved rapidly, and gained the affections 
of his teacher and companions. Happy for him had he continued 
in such a suitable situation. He was removed to Edinburgh to receive 
a more classical education. Being left there by his mother and 
sisters, the impetuosity of his temper, and propensity for a sea-faring 
life, induced his friends to place him as an apprentice in the mer- 
chant-service. He was shipwrecked on the coast of Holland, and 
Mr. Gibson of Rotterdam, a friend of Mrs. Graham, took him to his 
house, and enabled him to come to the United Stales. He remain- 
ed at New York for some months. His mother deemed it his duty 
to return to Scotland to complete his time of service. His inclina- 
tion tended evidently to the profession of a sailor ; she therefore 
fitted him out handsomely, and he embarked for Greenock in the 
same ship with Mr. John M. Mason, the only son of the late Dr. 
Mason, who went to attend the theological lectures at the Divinity 
Hall in Edinburgh. 

Mrs. Graham's exercises of mind on parting with her son, were 
deep and affecting. She cast him upon the covenant mercy of her 
God, placing a blank, as to temporal things, in her Lord's hand, but 
holding on with a fervent faith and hope to the promise of spiritual 
life, Leave thy fatherless children, 1 mill preserve them alive : and let 
thy widows trust in me. 

Three months afterwards, she learned that a pressgang had boarded 
the ship in w 7 hich her son had been, and although he was saved from 
their grasp by a stratagem of the passengers, yet all his clothes were 
taken away from him. Reflecting on this event, she says, " shall I 
withdraw the blank I have put into the Redeemer's hands? has he 
not hitherto done all things well ? have not my own afflictions been my 
greatest blessings? Lord I renew my blank." After undergoing 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 409 

many sufferings, this young man wrote to his mother from Demerara 
in the year 1794, that he had been made a prisoner: had been re- 
taken ; and then intended to go to Europe with a fleet which was soon 
to sail under convoy. His letter was couched in terms of salutary re- 
flection on his past life, and a hope of profiting by past experience. 
This was the last account which Mrs. Graham had of her afflicted 
son. All inquiries instituted respecting him proved fruitless, and she 
had to exercise faith and submission, not without hope towards God, 
that the Great Redeemer had taken care of, and would finally save, 
this prodigal son. She had known a case in her father's family, which 
excited their solicitude, and encouraged her hope. Her younger 
brother, Archibald Marshall, a lad of high temper, though possessed 
of an affectionate heart, had gone to sea, and was not heard of at 
all for several years. A pious woman who kept a boarding-house in 
Paisley, found one of her boarders one day reading Doddridge's 
Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul of Man, with Archibald 
Marshall's name written on the blank leaf. On inquiry the stranger 
told her he got that book from a young man on his death-bed, as a 
token of regard. That young man was Archibald Marshall — he was 
an exemplary Christian ; "and I have reason," added he, " to bless 
God that he was ever my messmate." The woman, who heard this 
account, transmitted it to Mr. Marshall's family, who were known to 
her. Mrs. Graham had no such consolatory account afforded to 
her ; but under much yearning of heart, she left this concern, as 
well as every other, to the disposal of that God who doeth all things 
ivelL 

In July 1795, Mrs. Graham's second daughter, Joanna, was mar- 
ried to Mr. Divie Bethune, merchant in New York. In the follow- 
ing month her eldest daughter, Mrs. Stevenson, was seized with a 
fatal illness. Of a most amiable disposition and genuine piety, she 
viewed the approach of death with the composure of a Christian 
and the intrepidity of faith. 

She had been in delicate health for some years before, and now a 
complication of disorders denied all hope of recovery. She sung a 
hymn of triumph, until the struggles of death interrupted her. Mrs. 
Graham displayed great firmness of mind, during the last trying scene, 
and when the spirit of her daughter fled, the mother raised her hands, 
and looking towards heaven, exclaimed, " I wish you joy, my darling." 
She then washed her face, took some refreshment, and retired to rest. 

Such was her joy of faith at the full salvation of her child ; but 
when the loss of her company was felt, the tenderness of a mother's 
heart afterwards gave vent to feelings of affectionate sorrow : nature 
will feel, even when faith triumphs. 

Mrs. Graham made it a rule to appropriate a tenth part of her 
earnings to be expended for pious and charitable purposes : she had 
taken a lease of two lots of ground on Greenwich-street from the 
corporation of Trinity Church, with a view of building a house on 

52 



410 MEMOIRS OF 

them for her own accommodation : the building, however, she never 
commenced : by a sale which her son, Mr. Bethune, made of the 
lease in 1795 for her, she got an advance of one thousand pounds. 
So large a profit was new to her. "Quick, quick," said she, "let 
me appropriate the tenth before my heart grows hard." What fidelity 
in duty! what distrust of herself! Fifty pounds of this money she 
sent to Mr. Mason in aid of the funds he was collecting for the es- 
tablishment of a Theological Seminary. 

In the year 1797, a society was instituted at New York, for the 
relief of poor widows witli small children ; a society which rose into 
great respectability, and has been productive of very beneficent effects. 
The Lord, in his merciful providence prepared this Institution, to 
grant relief to many bereaved families, who were left widows and 
orphans by the ravages of the yellow fever in the year 1798. 

It took rise from an apparently adventitious circumstance. Mr. 
Bethune, in the year 1796, was one of the distributing managers of 
the St. Andrew's Society. The distribution of this charity was of 
course limited to a certain description of applicants. Mrs. Bethune, 
interested for widows not entitled to share in the bounty of the St. An- 
drew's Society, frequently collected small sums for their relief. She 
consulted with a few friends on the propriety of establishing a Female 
Society for the relief of poor widows with small children, without 
limitation. Invitations in the form of circular letters, were sent to 
the ladies of New York ; and a very respectable number assembled 
at the house of Mrs. Graham. The proposed plan was approved, 
and a society organized. Mrs. Graham was elected first Directress 
which office she held ten years. 

At the semi-annual meeting in March, 1798, Mrs. Graham made 
a very pleasing report of the proceedings of the managers, and of 
the amount of relief afforded to the poor. The ladies of New- York 
rendered themselves truly deserving of applause for their zeal in this 
benevolent undertaking. 

In the month of September 1798, Mrs. Graham's daughter Isa- 
bella was married to Mr. Andrew Smith, merchant of New York, 
(afterwards of Richmond, Va.) Her family being thus settled to 
her satisfaction, she was prevailed upon to retire from business, and 
to live with her children. 

Miss Farquharson, her assistant, to whom she was much attach- 
ed, declined to succeed her, choosing rather to enjoy the society of 
her patroness and friend. She was a young lady of genuine piety 
and worth. The Lord had designed her for another important sta- 
tion. She is now Mrs. Loveless, of Madras, the help-meet of the 
London Society's excellent missionary there. Mrs. Graham main- 
tained a correspondence with Mrs. Loveless, and always regarded 
her with much affection. 

During the prevalence of the yellow fever in 1798, it was with 
much difficulty Mrs. Graham was dissuaded from going into the city 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 411 

to attend on the sick : the fear of involving her children in the same 
calamity, in the event of her being attacked by the fever, was the 
chief reason of her acquiescing in their wish to prevent so hazardous 
an undertaking. During the subsequent winter, she was indefatiga- 
ble in her attentions to the poor : she exerted herself to procure 
work for her widows, and occupied much of her time in cutting it 
out, and preparing it for them. The managers of the Widow's so- 
ciety had each their separate districts ; and Mrs. Graham, as first 
Directress, had a general superintendence of the whole. She was 
so happy in the execution of her trust, as to acquire the respect and 
confidence of the ladies who acted with her, as well as the affec- 
tions of the poor. 

Her whole time was now at her command, and she devoted it very 
faithfully to promote the benevolent object of the institution over 
which she presided. The extent of her exertions, however, became 
known, not from the information given by herself, but from the ob- 
servations of her fellow laborers, and especially from the testimony 
of the poor themselves. 

In the summer of 1800, she paid a visit to her friends in Boston. 
When she had been absent for some weeks, her daughter Mrs. Be- 
thune was surprised at the frequent inquiries made after her, by per- 
sons with whom she was unacquainted : at length she asked some 
of those inquirers what they knew of Mrs. Graham ? they replied, 
" we live in the surburbs of the city, where she used to visit, relieve 
and comfort the poor. We had missed her so long that we were 
afraid she had been sick : when she walked our streets, it was cus- 
tomary with us to come to the door and bless her as she passed." 

Until January 1803, she lived alternately with her children, Mrs. 
Bethune and Mrs. Smith ; at this period Mr. Smith having removed 
from New York, Mrs. Graham resided with Mr. and Mrs. Bethune, 
until her departure to a better world. They loved her, not only 
from natural affection, but for her superior worth ; they valued her, 
for they believed that many blessings were vouchsafed to them and 
their family in answer to her prayers. 

The Society for the relief of poor widows with small children 
having received a charter of incorporation, and some pecuniary aid 
from the Legislature of the state, the ladies who constituted the 
Board of Direction, were engaged in plans for extending their use- 
fulness : Mrs. Graham took an active part in executing these plans. 
The society purchased a small house, where they received work of 
various kinds, for the employment of their widows. They opened 
a school for the instruction of their orphans, and many of Mrs. Gra- 
ham's former pupils volunteered their services, taking upon them- 
selves by rotation, the part of instructors. Besides establishing this 
School, Mrs. Graham selected some of the widows, best qualified 
for the task, and engaged them for a small compensation, to open 
day schools for the instruction of the children of widows, in distant 



412 MEMOIRS OF 

parts of the city : she also established two Sabbath Schools, one of 
which she superintended herself, and the other she placed under 
the care of her daughter. Wherever she met with Christians sick 
and in poverty, she visited and comforted them ; and in some instan- 
ces opened small subscription lists to provide for their support. 

She attended occasionally for some years at the Alms House for 
the instruction of the children there, in religious knowledge : in this 
work she was much assisted by a humble and pious female friend, 
who was seldom absent from it on the Lord's day. In short, her 
whole time was occupied in searching out the distresses of the poor, 
and devising measures to comfort and establish them to the extent of 
her influence and means. At the same time, far from arrogating any 
merit to herself, she seemed always to feel how much she was de- 
ficient in following fully the precepts, and the footsteps of her belov- 
ed Lord and Savior, who went about doing good. 

It was often her custom to leave home after breakfast, to take with 
her a few rolls of bread, and return in the evening about eight 
o'clock. Her only dinner on such days was her bread, and perhaps 
some soup at the Soup House, established by the Humane Society for 
the poor over which one of her widows had been, at her recommen- 
dation, appointed. She and her venerable companion, Mrs. Sarah 
Hoffman, second Directress of the Widow's Society, travelled many 
a day and many a step together in the walks of charity. Mrs. Gra- 
ham was a Presbyterian, Mrs. Hoffman an Episcopalian. Those 
barriers, of which such a thundering use has been made by sectarians 
to separate the children of God, fell down between these two friends 
at the cry of affliction, and were consumed on the altar of Christian 
love. Arm in arm, and heart to heart, they visited the abodes of 
distress, dispensing temporal aid from the purse of charity, and spi- 
ritual comfort from the word of life. 

At each annual meeting, Mrs. Graham usually made an address 
to the society, with a report of the proceedings of the managers, 
through the preceding year. In April 1800, she stated that " again 
the pestilence had evacuated the city ; again every source of indus- 
try was dried up ; even the streams of benevolence from the coun- 
try failed. Those storehouses from which relief was issued to thou- 
sands in former calamities, now disappointed their hopes, and those 
spared by the pestilence, were ready to perish by the famine." These 
distresses were relieved by the energetic benevolence of the mem- 
bers of the society. 

The winter of 1804-5 was unusually severe : the river Hudson 
was shut by frost as early as November : fuel was consequently 
scarce and dear ; and the poor suffered greatly. Mrs. Graham vis- 
ited those parts of the city where the poorer class of sufferers dwelt ; 
in upwards of two hundred families, she either found a Bible their 
property, or gave them one ; praying with them in their affliction. 
She requested a friend to write, first one religious tract, and then 
another, suited to the peculiar situation of those afflicted people. 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 413 

And lest it might be said, it was cheap to give advice, she usually 
gave a small sum of money along with the tracts she distributed. 
There was, at this time, neither a Bible nor Tract Society in New 
York. Mrs. Hoffman accompanied her in many of her excursions. 
In the course of their visits, they discovered a French family from 
St. Domingo, in such extremity of distress, as made them judge it 
necessary to report their case to the Honorable Dewitt Clinton, then 
mayor of the city. The situation of this family being made public, 
three hundred dollars were voluntarily contributed for their relief. 
Roused by this incident, a public meeting was called at the Tontine 
Coffee House, and committees from the different wards were ap- 
pointed to aid the Corporation, in ascertaining and supplying the im- 
mediate wants of the suffering poor. The zeal of Mrs. Graham and 
Mrs. Hoffman paved the way for this public spirited exertion, which, 
probably, was the means of saving the lives of some of the destitute 
and friendless. 

In the month of August, 1S05, Mrs. Graham paid another visit to 
her friends in Boston, and spoke of them with much affection and 
esteem. She used to mention with peculiar approbation, a society 3* 
of pious ladies there, who met once in every week, for prayer and 
mutual edification. 

On the 15th of March, 1806, the female subscribers to proposals 
for providing an Asylum for Orphan Children met at the City Hotel; 
Mrs. Graham was called to the chair, a society organized, and a board 
of direction chosen. Mrs. Hoffman was elected the first directress 
of the Orphan Asylum Society. Mrs. Graham continued in the of- 
fice of first directress of the Widow's Society, but took a deep inter- 
est in the success of the Orphan Asylum Society also : she or one 
of her family taught the orphans daily, until the funds of the institu- 
tion were sufficient to provide a teacher and superintendent. She 
was a trustee at the time of her decease. The wish to establish this 
new society, was occasioned by the pain which it gave the ladies of 
the Widow's Society, to behold a family of orphans, driven, on the 
decease of a widow, to seek refuge in the alms-house ; no melting 
heart to feel, no redeeming hand to rescue them from a situation so 
unpromising for mental and moral improvement. 

The Society have received a charter of incorporation from the 
Legislature ; they have a handsome seal, with this inscription : in as 

MUCH AS YE HAVE DONE IT UNTO ONE OF THE LEAST OF THESE, 
YE HAVE DONE IT UNTO ME. 

For several years it w T as customary with Mrs. Graham to visit the 
Hospital. Before the erection of the edifice adapted to the recep- 
tion of deranged persons, and called " the Lunatic Asylum," she 
paid a particular attention to patients of this description. 

To the apartments appropriated to sick female convicts in the State 
Prison, Mrs. Graham also made many visits. She met with some 
affecting circumstances amon^t tins class. 



414 MEMOIRS OF 

In the winter 1807—8, when the suspension of commerce by the 
embargo, rendered the situation of the poor more destitute than ev- 
er, Mrs. Graham adopted a plan best calculated in her view to de- 
tect the idle applicant for charity, and at the same time to furnish 
employment for the more worthy amongst the female poor. She 
purchased flax, and lent wheels, where applicants had none. Such 
as were industrious, took the work with thankfulness, and were paid 
for it; those who were beggars by profession, never kept their word 
to return for the flax or the wheel. The flax thus spun, was after- 
wards wove, bleached, and made into table-cloths and towels -for 
family use. 

Mrs. Graham used to remark, that until some Institution should be 
formed to furnish employment for industrious poor women, the work 
of charity would be incomplete. It was about this time, that deem- 
ing the duties too laborious for her health, she resigned the office of 
First Directress of the Widow's Society,* and took the place of a 
manager. She afterwards declined this also, and became a trustee 
of the Orphan Asylum Society, as more suited to her advanced pe- 
riod of life. 

The delicate state of health to which one of her grand-daughters 
was reduced in 1808, made it necessary for her to spend the sum- 
mer season for five successive years at Rockaway for the advantage 
of sea-bathing. Mrs. Graham went with her, it being beneficial to 
her own health also. In this place, she met with many strangers : 
the company residing there, treated her with much affection and res- 
pect. She always attended to the worship of God morning and 
evening in her room, and was usually accompanied by some of the 
ladies w r ho boarded in the house. Her fund of information, vivaci- 
ty of manner and the interest which she felt in the happiness of all 
around her, made her society highly valued and pleasing. Few of 
those ladies who stayed with her at Rockaway, for any length of time, 
failed to express, at parting, their esteem for her, and they generally 
added a pressing invitation for a visit from her, if ever she should 
travel near where they dwelt. 

In the year 1810, whilst bathing, she was carried by the surf, be- 
yond her depth, and for some time there was scarcely a hope of her 
regaining the shore. Her grand-children were weeping on the beach, 
and the company assembled there were afflicted but hopeless spec- 
tators of her danger. At that moment of peril, she prayed to the 
Lord for deliverance, but acquiesced in his will, if he should see fit 
to take her to himself in this manner. Able to swim a little, she kept 
herself afloat for some time ; she became at length very faint ; and 
when her friends on the beach apprehended her lost, they perceived 
that the wave had impelled her somewhat nearer to them. A gen- 
tleman present, and her female attendant stepped into the surf, and 
extending their arms for mutual support, one of them was enabled to 
lay hold of Mrs. Graham's bathing gown, and to pull her towards 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 415 

them. When they brought her ashore, she was much exhausted-, 
and had swallowed a considerable quantity of water. It was some 
hours before she revived, when she addressed the company in a very 
serious and impressive manner, that affected them to tears. Her 
health during the following winter was much impaired by the shock 
it had received. 

In the year 1811, some gentlemen of New-York established a 
Magdalen Society : they elected a Board of ladies, requesting their 
aid to superintend the internal management of the Magdalen House. 
This Board chose Mrs. Graham their presiding lady, which office 
she held until her decease ; the duties attendant on it she discharged 
with fidelity and zeal. In 1812, the trustees of the Lancasterian 
School solicited the attendance of several pious ladies, to give cate- 
chetical instruction to their scholars, one afternoon in every week : 
Mrs. Graham was one of those who attended regularly to this duty. 

During the last two years of her life, she found her strength inad- 
equate to so extensive a course of visiting the poor, as formerly ; 
there were some distressed families, however, that experienced her 
kind attention to the last. She would occasionally accompany the 
Rev. Mr. Stanford on his visits to the State Prison, Hospital, and to 
the Magdalen House. This gentleman is the stated preacher, em- 
ployed by " the Society for the support of the Gospel among the 
poor." He devotes his time to preaching in the Alms House, Hos- 
pital, State Prison, Debtor's Prison, he. with great assiduity and ac- 
ceptance. Mrs. Graham now spent much of her time in her room, 
devoted to meditation, prayer, and reading the Scriptures; she seem- 
ed to be weaning from earth, and preparing for heaven. 

In the spring of 1814 she was requested to unite with some la- 
dies, in forming a Society for the promotion of Industry amongst 
the poor. 

The Corporation of the city having returned a favorable answer, 
to their petition for assistance and provided a house, a meeting of the 
Society was held, and Mrs. Graham once more was called to the 
chair. It was the last time she was to preside at the formation of a 
new Society. Her articulation, once strong and clear, was now ob- 
served to have become more feeble. The ladies present listened to 
her with affectionate attention ; her voice broke upon the ear as a 
pleasant sound that was passing away. She consented to have her 
name inserted in the list of managers, to give what assistance her age 
would permit in forwarding so beneficent a work. Although it pleas- 
ed God to make her cease from her labors, before the House of In- 
dustry was opened, yet the work was carried on by others, and pros- 
pered. Between four and five hundred women were employed and 
paid during the following winter. The Corporation declared in strong 
terms their approbation of the result, and enlarged their donation, 
with a view to promote the same undertaking for the succeeding 
winter. 



416 MEMOIRS or 

In the month of May, 1814, a Report was received from Mr. S. 
P — , of Bristol, in England, of the Society for establishing Adult 
Schools. Mrs. Graham was so delighted with a perusal of it, as 
immediately to undertake the formation of such a school in the vil- 
lage of Greenwich. She called on the young people who were at 
work in some neighboring manufactories, and requested them to at- 
tend her for this purpose every Sabbath morning at eight o'clock. 
This was kept up after her decease, as a Sunday School, and con- 
sisted of nearly eighty scholars. She was translated from this work 
of faith on earth, to engage in the sublimer work of praise in heaven. 

For some weeks previous to her last illness, she was favored with 
unusual health, and much enjoyment of religion : she appeared to 
have sweet exercises and communion in attending on all God's ordi- 
nances, and appointed means of grace. 

She was greatly refreshed in spirit by the success of Missionary 
and Bible Societies. She used to speak with much affection of Mr. 
Gordon, Mr. Lee, and Mr. May, with whom she had been acquaint- 
ed when in New York, on their way to missionary stations in India. 
For Dr. Robert Morrison, whom she had seen in 1807, on his way 
to China, she entertained a very high regard. She wag much pleas- 
ed with the solid talents, ardent piety, and persevering zeal* which 
she discerned in his character. 

On Tuesday, the 19th of July, she complained of not feeling well, 
and kept her room; on Thursday, her disorder proved to be a cholera 
morbus, and her children sent for a physician. She said this at- 
tack was slighter than in former seasons. On Saturday however, 
she requested that Mrs. Chrystie might be sent for ; this alarmed 
Mrs. Bethune, knowing there existed an understanding between those 
two friends, that one should attend the dying bed of the other : Mrs. 
Chrystie was a very dear friend of Mrs. Graham. For upwards of 
twenty four years they had loved each other, feeling reciprocal sym- 
pathy in their joys and their sorrows : the hope of faith was the con- 
solation of both, and oftentimes it had been .their delightful employ- 
ment to interchange their expressions of affection towards Him, 
ivhom having not seen, they loved, and in ivhom, though they saw him 
not, yet believing on him, they rejoiced with joy unspeakable and full 
of glory. On Mrs. Chrystie's entering the chamber of her friend, 
Mrs. Graham welcomed her with a sweet expressive smile, seeming 
to say, " I am going to get the start of you, I am called home before 
you ; it will be your office to fulfill our engagement." When she 
sat by her bedside, Mrs. Graham said, " your face is very pleasant 
to me my friend." During Saturday night a lethargy appeared to be 
overpowering her frame. On Sabbath morning she was disposed to 
constant slumber ; observing Mr. Bethune, looking at her with agita- 
tion, she was roused from her heaviness, and stretching her arms to- 
wards him, and embracing him, she said, "my dear, dear son, I am 
going to leave you, I am going to my Savior." " I know," be re- 



MRS. ISABELLA GRAHAM. 417 

plied, " that when you do go from us, it will be to the Savior ; but 
my dear mother, it may not be the Lord's time now to call you to 
himself.' , " Yes," said she, " now is the time, and Oh ! I could 
weep for sin." Her words were accompanied with tears. " Have 
you any doubts then, my dear friend ?" asked Mrs. Chrystie. " Oh 
no," replied Mrs. Graham : and looking at Mr. and Mrs. Bethune, 
as they wept, " my dear children, I have no more doubt of going to 
my Savior, than if I were already in his arms ; my guilt is all trans- 
ferred ; he has cancelled all I owed. Yet I could weep for sins 
against so good a God : it seems to me as if there must be weeping 
even in heaven for sin." After this, she entered into conversation 
with her friends, mentioning portions of scripture, and favorite hymns 
which had been subjects of much comfortable exercise of mind to 
her. Some of these she had transcribed into a little book, calling 
them her victuals prepared for crossing over Jordan : she committed 
them to memory, and often called them to remembrance, as her songs 
in the night, when sleep had deserted her. She then got Mr. 
Bethune, to read to her some of these portions, especially the eighty 
second hymn of the third book of Newton's hymns, beginning thus : 

Let us love, and sing, and wonder; 
Let us praise the Savior's name ! 
He has hush'd the law's loud thunder; 
He has quench'd Mount Sinai's flame ; 
He has wash'd us with his blood ; 
He has brought us nigh to God. 

Mrs. Graham then fell asleep, nor did she awaken until the voice of 
the Rev. Dr. Mason roused her. They had a very affectionate in- 
terview, which he has partly described in the excellent sermon he 
delivered after her decease. She expressed to him her hope, as 
founded altogether on the redemption that is in Jesus Christ. Were 
she left to depend on the merit of the best action she had ever per- 
formed, that would be only a source of despair. She repeated to 
him, as her view of salvation, the fourth verse of the hymn already 
quoted : 

Let us wonder, grace and justice 

Join, and point at mercy's store; 
When thro' grace in Christ our trust is,, 
Justice smiles, and asks no more ; 
He who wash'd us with his blood, 
Has secur'd our way to God. 

Having asked Dr. Mason to pray with her, he inquired if there was 
any particular request she had to make of God, by him ; she replied 
that God would direct : then as he kneeled, she put up her hands, 
and raising her eyes towards heaven, breathed this short, but express- 
ive petition, " Lord, lead thy servant in prayer." 

After Dr. Mason had taken his leave, she again fell into a deep 
sleep. Her physicians still expressed a hope of her recovery, as her 
pulse was regular, and the violence of her disease had abated- One 

53 



418 MEMOIRS. &C. 

of them, however, declared his opinion, that his poor drugs would 
prove of little avail against her own ardent prayers to depart, and 
be with Christ, which was far better for her than a return to a dying 
world. 

On Monday the Rev. Mr. Rowan prayed with her, and to him she 
expressed also the tranquillity of her mind, and the steadfastness of 
her hope, through Christ, of eternal felicity. 

Her lethargy increased ; at intervals from sleep, she would occa- 
sionally assure her daughter, Mrs. Bethune, that all was well ; and 
when she could rouse herself only to say one word at a time, that 
one word, accompanied with a smile, was " Peace." From her, 
there was a peculiar emphasis in this expression of the state of her 
mind ; Peace 1 leave with you, my peace 1 give unto you, had been 
a favorite portion of scripture with her, and a promise, the fulfilment 
of which was her earnest prayer to the God who made it. She also 
occasionally asked Mr. Bethune to pray with her, even when she could 
only articulate, as she looked at him, " Pray." She was now sur- 
rounded by many of her dear Christian friends, who watched her dy- 
ing-bed with affection and solicitude. On Tuesday afternoon she 
slept with little intermission. This, said Dr. Mason, may be truly 
called " falling asleep in Jesus." It was remarked by those who at- 
tended her, that all terror was taken away, and that death seemed 
here as an entrance into life. Her countenance was placid, and look- 
ed younger than before her illness. 

At a quarter past twelve o'clock, being the morning of the 27th of 
July, 1814, without a struggle or a groan, her spirit winged its flight 
from a mansion of clay to the realms of glory, whilst around the pre- 
cious remnant of earth, her family and friends stood weeping, yet el- 
evated by the scene they were witnessing. After a silence of ma- 
ny minutes, they kneeled by her bed, adored the goodness and the 
grace of God towards his departed child, and implored the divine 
blessing on both the branches of her family, as well as on all the Is- 
rael of God. 

Thus she departed in peace, not trusting in her wisdom or vir- 
tue, like the Philosophers of Greece and Rome ; not even like Ad- 
dison, calling on the profligate to see a good man die ; but like 
Howard, afraid that her good works might have a wrong place in the 
estimate of her hope, her chief glory was that of " a sinner saved by 
Grace."* 



* This was Howard's epitaph, dictated by himself. 
From the life of Mrs. Graham, by her daughter Mrs. Bethune. 



419 



MRS. HARRIET NEWELL. 



The subject of these memoirs, was a daughter of Mr. Moses At- 
wood, a merchant of Haverhill, Massachusetts, and was born Octo- 
ber H)th, 1793. She was naturally of a cheerful disposition, and in 
early life was distinguished for her love of books, and a taste for 
reading, which led her to the acquisition of much useful knowledge. 
To secure to her the advantage of a liberal and solid education, she 
was, in her thirteenth year, placed at an academy of high reputation 
at Bradford, not far from her native town. At this place, distin- 
guished in the religious experience of many eminent Christians, as 
the place where they first obtained a saving knowledge of divine 
things, her attention was turned, with several of her companions in 
study, to the importance and necessity of that change of purpose 
and feeling, by which alone the soul is fitted for the joys of heaven. 
This was in the summer of 1806, at a time of genera] attention to 
religion. A large number of her companions of L>oth sexes, with 
whom she had associated, were in deep distress for their immortal 
souls. Many who were formerly gay and thoughtless were now in 
tears, anxiously inquiring what they should do to be saved. Her 
mind was still more earnestly fixed on these things by the perusal of 
Doddridge's Sermons to Young People. These she much admired, 
and spoke with delight of the benefit she derived from them. 

But before she indulged a hope that she was a subject of spiritual 
renovation, she had a long season of distressing conviction, careful 
self-examination, and earnest prayer. She could not admit the com- 
fortable conclusion that she was born again, before she was conscious 
that she had given herself to the Lord, and yielded sincere obedi- 
ence to his holy commands. And when at length she felt that she 
had secured the one thing needful, in gratitude for the fruition of 
that true joy never found but in the exercise of religion, she resolved 
to devote the remainder of her life entirely to the service of God. 
Long before she thought her own salvation secure, she began to ex- 
ercise an enlarged affection for the kingdom of Christ, and to be fer- 
vent in her prayers for the building up of Zion, and the salvation of 
the heathen. And now that all her views and wishes were turned, 
this became the prominent feature of her religion — the supreme ob- 
ject of her pursuits. 

Though not yet thirteen years old, the deep religious impressions 
here made on her mind, were never effaced, and in them was laid 
the foundation of her Christian life. She remained in Bradford 
Academy about one year and three months, and while there retain- 



420 MEMOIRS OF 

ed her first religious feelings in full strength. The warmth of her 
first sentiment was doubtless kept up in her heart by the influence 
and example of many of her companions in the academy, who had 
begun the Christian course at the same time with her, and who went 
on together mutually cheered and encouraged. It was customary 
for those in the academy whose thoughts were turned to religious 
subjects, to maintain a familiar correspondence with each other, com- 
municating to each other the substance of their meditations, in epis- 
tolary style. Among the friends at Bradford, with whom Harriet 
Atwood loved to correspond, and mingle sacred discourse, was Miss 
Fanny Woodbury, whose eminence for piety has occasioned a brief 
sketch of her life in the pages of this work. A very frequent and 
affectionate correspondence was continued between the two friends, 
after they left the academy, and returned to their respective homes. 
The ardent piety which distinguished them both was no doubt 
strengthened and enlarged by the interchange of sympathetic feeling 
on the subject. 

From some passages in her diary and letters, it appears, that dur- 
ing the year 1808, she was in a state of religious declension and 
darkness. According to the statement of one who was competent 
to testify, " She appeared gradually to lose her fondness for retire- 
ment, and her delight in the scriptures, and associated more freely 
with her former gay companions. Yet nothing was manifested, 
which afforded any just ground for suspecting her sincerity." 

But this lamb, which had once been gathered to the fold of Christ, 
was not thus left to wander back into the world's wilderness. In her 
diary, under date of July 1, 1809, she says, 

" God has been pleased in infinite mercy, again to call up my at- 
tention to eternal realities. After spending more than a year in the 
vanities of the world — thoughtless and unconcerned respecting my 
eternal welfare ; he has, as I humbly trust, showed me my awful 
backslidings from him, and my dependence on his grace for every 
blessing. 

" I do now, in the strength of Jesus, resolve that I will no longer 
sacrifice my immortal soul for what I have hitherto deemed my tem- 
poral happiness. O that I might be enabled to come out from the 
world, and to profess Christ as my Redeemer before multitudes. 
I now see that I have enjoyed no happiness in my pursuit of world- 
ly pleasure. Not in the play-room — not in the vain and idle con- 
versation of my companions — not in the bustle of a crowded life, 
have I found happiness. This heaven-born guest is found only in 
the bosom of the child of Jesus. How awfully aggravated will be 
my condemnation, if I do not, after this second call, awaken all my 
drowsy faculties, and become earnestly engaged for God !" 

She did not neglect this second call, but arose in the strength of 
new life, and turned again to the path which she had so early trod, 
in the following month 3 she joined herself to the church in her na- 



MRS. HARRIET NEWELL. 421 

tive place, publicly professing her faith in Christ. We here subjoin 
the following summary account of her religious exercises, found 
among her private papers. 

11 August 21th, 1S09. — A review of past religious experience 1 
have often found useful aud encouraging. On this account, I have 
written down the exercises of my mind, hoping that, by frequently 
reading them, I may be led to adore the riches of sovereign grace, 
praise the Lord for his former kindness to me, and feel encouraged 
to persevere in a holy life. 

" The first ten years of my life were spent in vanity. I was en- 
tirely ignorant of the depravity of my heart. The summer that I 
entered my eleventh year, I attended a dancing school. My con- 
science would sometimes tell me, that my time was foolishly spent, 
and though I had never heard it intimated, that such amusements 
were criminal, yet I could not rest, until I had solemnly determined 
that, when the school closed, I would immediately become religious. 
But these resolutions were not carried into effect. Although I at- 
tended every day to secret prayer, and read the Bible with greater 
attention than before, yet I soon became weary of these exercises, 
and, by degrees, omitted entirely the duties of the closet. When I 
entered my thirteenth year, I was sent by my parents to the Acade- 
my at Bradford. A revival of religion commenced in the neighbor- 
hood, which in a short time spread into the school. A large num- 
ber of the young ladies were anxiously inquiring, what they should 
do to inherit eternal life. I began to inquire, what these things 
meant ? My attention was solemnly called to the concerns of my 
immortal soul. I was a stranger to hope ; and I feared the ridicule 
of my gay companions. My heart was opposed to the character of 
God ; and I felt that, if I continued an enemy to his government, I 
must eternally perish. My convictions of sin were not so pungent 
and distressing, as many have had ; but they were of long continu- 
ance. It was more than three months, before I was brought to cast 
my soul on the Savior of sinners, and rely on him alone for salva- 
tion. The ecstacies, which many new-born souls possess, were not 
mine. But if I was not lost in raptures on reflecting upon what I 
had escaped, I was filled with a sweet peace, a heavenly calmness, 
which I never can describe. The honors, applauses, and titles of 
this vain world appeared like trifles light as air. The character of 
Jesus appeared infinitely lovely, and I could say with the Psalmist, 
whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none on earth I de- 
sire besides thee. The awful gulf I had escaped, filled me with as- 
tonishment. My gay associates were renounced, and the friends of 
Jesus became my dear friends. The destitute, broken state of the 
church at Haverhill prevented me from openly professing my faith 
in Jesus ; but it was a privilege, which 1 longed to enjoy. 

But alas ! these seasons so precious did not long continue. Soon 
was T led to exclaim, Oh that I were as in months past ! My zeal 



422 MEMOIRS OF 

for the cause of religion almost entirely abated ; while this vain 
world engrossed my affections, which had been consecrated to my 
Redeemer. My Bible, once so lovely, was entirely neglected. 
Novels and romances engaged my thoughts, and hour after hour was 
foolishly and sinfully spent in the perusal of them. The company 
of Christians became, by degrees, irksome and unpleasant. I en- 
deavored to shun them. The voice of conscience would frequently 
whisper, " all is not right." Many a sleepless night have I passed, 
after a day of vanity and sin. But such conflicts did not bring me 
home to the fold, from which, like a stray lamb, I had wandered far 
away. A religion, which was intimately connected with the amuse- 
ments of the world, and the friendship of those who are at enmity 
with God, would have suited well my depraved heart. But I knew 
that the religion of the gospel was vastly different. It exalts the 
Creator, while it humbles the creature in the dust. 

" Such was my awful situation ! I lived only to wound the cause 
of my ever blessed Savior. Weep, oh my soul ! when contempla- 
ting and recording these sins of my youth. Be astonished at the 
long suffering of Jehovah ! How great a God is our God ! The 
death of a beloved parent and uncle had but little effect on my 
hard heart. Though these afflictions moved my passions, they did 
not lead me to the fountain of consolation. But God, who is rich in 
mercy, did not leave me here ! He had prepared my heart to re- 
ceive his grace ; and he glorified the riches of his mercy, by carry- 
ing on the work. I was providentially invited to visit a friend in 
Newburyport. I complied with the invitation. The evening pre- 
vious to my return home, I heard the Rev. Mr. McF. It was the 
2Sth of June, 1809. How did the truths, which he delivered, sink 
deep into my inmost soul ! My past transgressions rose like great 
mountains before me. The most poignant anguish seized my mind ; 
my carnal security fled ; and I felt myself a guilty transgressor, na- 
ked before a holy God. Mr. B. returned with me the next day to 
Haverhill. Never, no never, while memory retains her seat in my 
breast, shall I forget the affectionate manner in which he addressed 
me. His conversation had the desired effect. I then made the 
solemn resolution, as 1 trust, in the strength of Jesus, that I would 
make a sincere dedication of my all to my Creator, both for time 
and eternity. This resolution produced a calm serenity and com- 
posure, to which I had long been a stranger. How lovely the way 
of salvation then appeared ! Oh how lovely was the character of 
the Savior ! The duty of professing publicly on which side I was, 
now was impressed on my mind. I came forward, and offered my- 
self to the church ; was accepted ; received into communion ; and 
commemorated, for the first time, the dying love of the blessed Je- 
sus, August 6th, 1809. This was a precious season, long to be re- 
membered ! Oh the depths of sovereign grace ! Eternity will be 
too short to celebrate the perfections of God. 

Harriet Atwood." 



MRS. HARRIET NEWELL, 423 

Thus she continued after this new consecration of herself to God, 
growing each day in grace and strengthening in the resolution to de- 
vote herself to his cause, till she became acquainted with Mr. Sam- 
uel Newell, a licensed preacher of the gospel, who had resolved to 
labor among the heathen, as soon as funds could be raised to support 

a foreign mission. Miss Atwood thus mentions the incident in her 
o 

diary. 

Oct. 23, 1810.— Mr. M. introduced Mr.' N. to our family. He 
appears to be an engaged Christian. Expects to spend his life, in 
preaching a Savior to the benighted pagans. 

Oct. 31. — Mr. N. called on us this morning. He gave me some 
account of the dealings of God with his soul. If such a man who 
has devoted himself to the service of the gospel, has determined to 
labor in the most difficult part of the vineyard, and is willing to re- 
nounce his earthly happiness for the interest of religion ; if he doubts 
his possessing love to God ; — what shall 1 say of myself V 

The acquaintance thus begun soon ripened into an intimacy, which 
a few months after resulted in a proposal of marriage from Mr. 
Newell. We give the account of it in her own words. 

April 17, 1S11. — How shall I record the events of this day ! how 
can I tranquilize my disturbed mind enough to engage in the once 
delightful employment of writing ? I returned from Boston in the eve- 
ning, after spending three days very agreeably with my friends C, 
and N. M. handed me a letter with an appearance that indicated 
that something unusual was contained in it. I broke the seal, and 

what were my emotions, when I read the name of . This was 

not a long wished for letter, — no, it was a long dreaded one, which, 
I was conscious, would involve me in doubts, anxiety and distress, 
Nor were the contents such, as I might answer at a distant pe- 
riod ; — they required an immediate answer. And now what shall I 
say ? how shall I decide this important, this interesting question ? — 
shall I consent to leave forever the Parent of my youth ; the friends 
of my life ; the dear scenes of my childhood, and my native coun- 
try ; and go to a land of strangers, " not knowing the things that 
shall befal me there ?" O for direction from heaven ! " O for 
that wisdom which is profitable to direct !" 1 go to God, and with 
an unprejudiced mind, seek his guidance. I will cast this heavy 
burden on him, humbly trusting that he will sustain me, and direct 
me in the path of duty. 

April 19. — The important decision is not yet made. I am still 
wavering. 1 long to see and converse with my dear mother ! so 
delicate is my situation, that I dare not unbosom my heart to a single 
person. What shall I do ! could tears direct me in the path of duty, 
surely I should be directed. My heart aches ;— I know not what to 
do ! — " Guide me, O thou great Jehovah." 

April 21. — Have now retired to my chamber, once more to vent, 
in silence, my unavailing sighs, and with an almost bursting heart, 
implore divine relief and direction. 



424 MEMOIRS OF 

I shall go home on Tuesday.-— Never did I so greatly long to visit 
the dear native dwelling. 

April 22. — Perhaps my dear mother will immediately say, Harriet 
shall never go. Well if this should be the case, my duty would be 
plain. I cannot act contrary to the advice and express commands 
of a pious mother. 

May, 1811. — Returning to Haverhill, I found my dear mama 
calm and composed. So completely was she filled with a sense of 
the shortness of time, the uncertainty of life, and the duty of giv- 
ing up our dearest comforts to the Lord, that she never raised one 
objection, but wished me to act as my conscience directed. I felt 
an unspeakable consolation in committing the disposal of this event 
to God. I thought I could willingly renounce my own opinion, and sit- 
ting at the feet of Jesus, be guided entirely by him. Mr. N. has vis- 
ited us frequently. He wishes not to influence me ; he would not if 
he could. 

Should I refuse to make this sacrifice, refuse to lend my little aid 
in the promulgation of the Gospel among the heathen, how could I 
ever expect to enjoy the blessing of God, and peace of conscience, 
though surrounded with every temporal mercy? it would be pleasant 
to spend the remaining part of my life with my friends, and to have 
them surround my dying bed. But no ! I must relinquish their so- 
ciety, and follow God to a land of strangers, where millions of my 
fellow sinners are perishing for lack of vision. I have professed, for 
these two years past, to derive comfort only from God. — Here, then 
is a consoling reflection, that the ever blessed Jesus is able to support 
and comfort me, as well in the sultry climes of India, as in my dear 
native land. I trust that he will make his promise good, that as my 
day is, so shall my strength be. The wintry storms of life will soon 
be over ; and if I have committed my immortal interest into the 
hands of God, I shall shortly find a sweet release from every woe. — 
So visibly have I beheld the hand of Providence in removing some 
obstacles, which once I thought almost insurmountable, that I dare not 
object. All my friends, with whom I have conversed since my re- 
turn to Haverhill, advise me to go. Some Christians, who were for- 
merly opposed, after obtaining a more extensive knowledge of the 
subject, think females would be useful. The people of this world 
probably view this subject as they do others. Those who have nev- 
er felt the worth of their own souls, account it superstition and hypo- 
critic zeal, for Christians to sacrifice their earthly pleasures, for the 
sake of telling the heathen world of a Savior. But all the ridicule 
that the gay and thoughtless sinner can invent, will not essentially in- 
jure me. If I am actuated by love to the Savior and his cause, no- 
thing on earth or hell can hurt me. Perhaps my views of this sub- 
ject may be altered ; and God may yet prepare a way for me to con- 
tinue in America. O, that I might be submissive, and humbly wait 
on God. He can direct me at this eventful crisis, and glorify him- 
self. 



MRS. HARRIET NEWELL. 425 

After her engagement, she remained at home for several months, 
while Mr. Newell was in Philadelphia gaining some knowledge of 
medicine that might be useful to him. The following extracts from 
a letter which she wrote to him while there, expresses her views of 
the undertaking to which she was pledged. 

Haverhill, July 16, 1811. — " With respect to the mission, my 
mind has never been so solemnly impressed, as since you left me. 
Various indeed have been my feelings. I fear I have not thought 
enough of the most important qualification of all, viz. a heart wholly 
devoted to God. Sometimes, when reflecting on this subject, I 
think I shall welcome the day, which will land me on India's shores, 
that I may have an opportunity of telling those dear benighted fe- 
males, what I have felt of a Savior's love, and of the worth of his 
blessed gospel. At other times, a sense of the dangers and hazards 
of a missionary life quite depresses my spirits, and deprives me of 
every enjoyment. Is it a delusion, or do I really feel willing to sac- 
rifice the pleasures and comforts of life, which I might enjoy in my 
native country, and unite with the few dear brethren and sisters, in 
using my feeble efforts to christianize the heathen ? — but I cannot 
bear the idea that my going should be attended with so many anxie- 
ties on your part.* 

"You fear that I shall lose my courage, and look back with longing 
desires towards America. — This I likewise fear. But that God who 
has said that his grace shall be sufficient for his children, will in an- 
swer to sincere prayer, grant me new resolution, and fresh supplies 
of strength. " From God is all my aid." O pray for me, that 
I may be furnished with every needful qualification." 

July 23. — I have just read a passage in Thomson's Seasons, 
which I thought I could adopt as my own language. 

"Should fate command me to the farthest verge 
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, 
Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun 
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam 
Flames on the Atlantic Isles ! 'tis nought to me, 
Since God is ever present — ever just, 
In the void waste as in the city full, 
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy." 



* The following note to this letter, afterwards written by Mr. Newell to his friends 
explains the language here employed. 

" My mind, you all know, was much tried on this subject before we left America. 
I once communicated my anxieties on this point, to a confidential friend, to which he 
replied in these words : " a little slender female, may endure losses and sufferings as 
cheerfully and resolutely as an apostle. The lovely humility and meekness of a 
christian woman, are sometimes connected with a tranquillity of mind that no ca- 
lamities can ruffle, and a firmness that no danger or distress can subdue. The time 
may come when your courage will sink, and when the cheerfulness and resolution 
of your Harriet will at once astonish and animate you."— I have to acknowledge 
that these predictions, (if I may so call them,) have been more than once literally 
fulfilled" * 

54 



426 MEMOIRS OF 

She was married to Mr. Newell, in the beginning of February 
1812, who was ordained as a missionary to India, with Messrs. Jud- 
son, Nott, Hall and Rice, at Salem, Feb. 6. On the 19th of the 
same month, Messrs. Newell and Judson, with their wives sailed 
from Salem in the brig Caravan for Calcutta. 

After a voyage of one hundred and eighteen days, they landed at 
Calcutta, where they were cordially welcomed by the English mis- 
sionaries, Carey, Marshman and Ward ; and soon after, by invitation, 
fixed their temporary residence at Serampore, the head quarters of 
the English Baptist mission in India. The American missionaries 
expected to begin their labors among the heathen natives, as soon 
as they could find a convenient place for a beginning. But by the 
tyrannical conduct of the English East India company, so infamous 
as the despots of India, they were forbidden to proceed and were 
ordered to return to America in the same vessel in which they came. 
But they were determined that they would not thus give up the noble 
work to which they had solemnly dedicated their lives, and though 
driven from British India, they sought other fields where there was 
need, and room for the gospel. 

The missionaries separated to different fields of labor, and Mr. and 
Mrs. Newell embarked for the Isle of France, on the fourth of Au- 
gust, 1812. The narrative of the distressing events of the voyage 
is best given in the words of Mr. Newell's letter to Mrs. Atwood, 
the mother of his wife. 

" Harriet enjoyed good health from the time we left you, until we 
embarked on our voyage from Calcutta to the Isle of France. The 
fatigue of riding in a palanquin, in that unhealthy place, threw her 
into a fever which commenced the day after we were on board. She 
was confined about a week to her couch, but afterward recovered 
and enjoyed pretty good health. We left Calcutta on the 4th of 
August, but on account of contrary winds and bad weather, we were 
driven about in the bay of Bengal, without making much progress 
during the whole of that month. On or about the 27th, it was dis- 
covered that the vessel had sprung a leak ; and on the 30th the leak 
had increased to such an alarming degree, as to render our situation 
extremely perilous. A consultation of the officers was called, and 
it was determined to put about immediately, and make the nearest 
port, which was Coringa, a small town on the Coromandel coast, 
about sixty miles south of Vizigapatam. We got safe into port on 
Saturday, September 5th." 

[On the 19th of September they re-embarked, and Mrs. N. en- 
joyed comfortable health, till nearly three weeks after leaving Coringa, 
and about three weeks before reaching the Isle of France, when she 
became the joyful mother of a daughter. Four days after, in con- 
sequence of a severe storm of wind and rain, the child took cold, 
and died on the evening of the next day.] 

" About a week after Mrs. N.'s confinement," says Mr. N., " I 
first perceived the symptoms of that disorder, which terminated in 



MRS. HARRIET NEWELL. 427 

her death. She immediately recognized the disease of which her 
father, and several other of her family connexions died, and was con- 
fident she should never recover. I endeavored to raise her hopes, 
and encouraged her to expect much from a change of situation. 
But she wished me to dismiss all expectations of her recovery, and 
to prepare my mind, and help her to prepare her own, for the sol- 
emn event. She told me she had some doubts respecting her state. 
Yet she was by no means alarmed at the idea of death, but was calm, 
patient, and resigned. During the last week of our passage she read 
through the Book of Job, and, as she afterwards told me, ' found 
sweet relief from every fear in submitting to a sovereign God ;' and 
could not refrain from tears of joy, that God should give her so com- 
fortable views of death and eternity. Her health continued uniform- 
ly in a declining state, and the symptoms of a settled consumption 
grew every day more and more apparent." 

[Though Mr. N. feared the worst, he did not consider her case 
as fatal, till the last fortnight of her life, which commenced about ten 
days after their arrival at the Isle of France. Mr. N. immediately 
on their arrival, called in the aid of Dr. B., the chief surgeon of the 
British army in that island, and Dr. W., a Danish physician, a friend 
with whom they had become acquainted at Serampore. There was 
but little alteration in Mrs. N.'s health, (excepting that she gradually 
lost strength,) till about a fortnight before her death, when she de- 
clined more rapidly, and all hope of her recovery was extinguished. 
About four o'clock, P. M., on Monday, Nov. 30, 1812, her eyesight 
failed her, soon after which, she calmly, and with apparent ease, ex- 
pired, seven weeks and four days after her confinement. These 
events, with all the attending circumstances, are related by Mr. N. 
with great tenderness and particularity. He then proceeds as follows :] 

" There, my dear mother, I have finished the story of Harriet's 
sufferings. Let us turn from the tale of wo to a brighter scene ; one 
that will gladden your heart, as I am sure it does mine. During this 
long series of sufferings, she meekly yielded to the will of her Heav- 
enly Father, without one murmuring word. ■ My wicked heart,' she 
writes, is inclined to think it hard, that I should suffer such fatigue 
and hardship. I sinfully envy those, whose lot it is to live in tran- 
quillity on land. Happy people ! Ye know not the toils and trials 
of voyages across the rough and stormy deep. O for a little Indian 
hut on land. But hush, my warring passions ; it is for Jesus, who 
sacrificed the joys of his Father's kingdom, and expired on a cross 
to redeem a fallen world, that thus I wander from place to place, and 
feel nowhere at home. How reviving the thought ! How great the 
consolation it yields to my sinking heart ! I will cherish it, and yet 
be happy." 

" In the first part of the sickness which succeeded the birth of our 
babe, she had some doubts which occasionally interrupted her spirit- 
ual comfort ; but they were soon removed, and her mind was filled 
with that peace of God, which passeth all understanding. 



428 MEMOIRS OF 

" I finally became convinced that she was far gone in a consump- 
tion, and told her I feared she would find a grave in the Isle of 
France. She seemed to be relieved of a heavy burden, when I gave 
her this intelligence. From this time we conversed constantly, and 
with the greatest freedom and plainness, respecting her death, which 
we now considered as certain, and near at hand. When she per- 
ceived me sorrowful, she would, with a smiling countenance and 
cheerful voice, endeavor to animate me with the prospect of a speedy 
reunion in a world where we should part no more. 

" When 1 asked her, a few days before she died, if she had any re- 
maining doubts respecting her spiritual state, she answered with an 
emphasis that she had none. During the whole of her sickness, she 
talked in the most familiar manner, and with great delight, of death, 
and the glory that was to follow. When Dr. B. one day told her, 
those were gloomy thoughts, she had better get rid of them, she re- 
plied, that, on the contrary, they were to her cheering and joyful, be- 
yond what she could express. W T hen I attempted to persuade her 
that she would recover, (which I fondly hoped,) it seemed to strike 
her like a disappointment. She would say, 4 You ought rather to 
pray that I may depart, that I may be perfectly free from sin, and be 
where God is.' 

" Her mind was from day to day filled with the most comforting 
and delightful views of the character of God and Christ. She often 
requested me to talk to her on these interesting subjects. She told 
me that her thoughts were so much confused, and her mind so much 
weakened, by the distress of body she had suffered, that she found 
it difficult steadily to pursue a train of thoughts on divine things, but 
that she continually looked to God, and passively rested on him. She 
often spoke of meeting her friends in heaven. ' Perhaps,' said she, 
6 my dear mother has gone before me to heaven, and as soon as I 
leave this body, I shall find myself with her.' At another time she 
said, c We often talk of meeting our friends in heaven; but what would 
heaven be with all our friends, if God were not there ?' 

" She longed exceedingly for the brethren to arrive from India, 
that we might form ourselves into a church, and celebrate the dying 
love of Jesus once more before she died. Her desires to enjoy the 
benefit of this ordinance were so strong, and our situation so peculiar, 
that I thought a deviation from the usage of our churches in this in- 
stance would be justifiable, and accordingly on the last Sabbath in 
November, the day before she died, I gave her the symbols of the 
body and blood of our Lord ; and I trust it was a comfortable sea- 
son to us both. 

" A few days before she died, after one of those distressing turns of 
coughing and raising phlegm, which so rapidly wasted her strength, 
she called me to come aud sit on her bed beside her, and receive her 
dying message to her friends. She observed, that her strength was 
quite exhausted, and she could say only a few words ; but feared she 



MRS. HARRIET NEWELL. 429 

should not have another opportunity. ' Tell my dear mother,' said 
she, c how much Harriet loved her. Tell her to look to God, and 
keep near to him, and he will support and comfort her in all her trials. 
I shall meet her in heaven, for surely she is one of the dear children 
of God.' She then turned to her brothers and sisters : ' Tell them,' 
said she, ' from the lips of their dying sister, that there is nothing but 
religion worth living for. O exhort them to attend immediately to the 
care of their precious, immortal souls. Tell them not to delay re- 
pentance. The eldest of them will be anxious to know how I now 
feel with respect to missions. Tell them, and also my dear mother, 
that I have never regretted leaving my native land for the cause of 
Christ. Let my dear brothers and sisters know I love them to the 
last. I hope to meet them in heaven ; but Oh, if I should not' — ■ 
Here tears burst from her eyes, and her sobs of grief at the thought 
of an eternal separation, expressed feelings that were too big for utter- 
ance. After she recovered a little from the shock, which these strong 
emotions had given to her whole frame, she attempted to speak of 
several other friends ; but was obliged to sum up all she had to say 
in ' Love and an affectionate farewell to them all.' Within a day or 
two of her death, such conversation as the following passed between 
us: 

" Should you not be willing to recover, and live a while longer here? 

" ' On some accounts it would be desirable. I wish to do some- 
thing for God before I die. But the experience I have had of the 
deceitfulness of my heart leads me to expect, that if I should recov- 
er, my future life would be much the same as my past has been, and 
I long to be perfectly free from sin. God has called me away before 
we have entered upon the work of the mission, but the case of David 
affords me comfort. I have had it in my heart to do what 1 can for 
the heathen, and I hope God will accept me.' 

" But what shall I do, when you are gone ? How can I bear the 
separation ? 

" ' Jesus will be your best friend, and our separation will be short. 
We shall soon, very soon, meet in a better world ; if I thought we 
should not, it would be painful indeed to part with you.' 

" How does your past life appear to you now ? 

" ' Bad enough ; but that only makes the grace of Christ appear 
the more glorious. 

" c Jesus, thy blood and righteousness, 
My beauty are, my heavenly dress; 
Midst flaming worlds, in *hese array'd, 
With joy shall I lift up my head.' 

As I stood by her bedside, about nine in the evening previous to 
her decease, perceiving that she was failing very fast, I told her I 
wished to take my leave of her, before her speech and recollection 
left her. She raised her eyes to look at me one mere, gave me her 
hand, already chilled with death, and with a feeble voice, said, 
' Farewell — we shall soon meet again—Jesus will be your friend.' 



430 MEMOIRS, &C. 

" When I told her she could not live through the next day, she 
replied, " O joyful news ; I long to depart.' Sometime after, I said 
to her, ' How does death appear to you now ?' She replied : Glori- 
ous ; truly welcome.' During Sabbath night she seemed to be a 
little wandering ; but the next morning she had her recollection per- 
fectly. As I stood by her, I asked if she knew me. At first she 
made no answer. I said to her again, ' My dear Harriet, do you 
know who I am ?' ' My dear Mr. Newell, my husband,' was her 
reply ; but in broken accents, and a voice faltering in death. 

" The last words which I remember, and which I think were the 
last she uttered, relative to her departure, were these — ' The pains, 
the groans, the dying strife,' — c How long, O Lord, how long.' 

" But I must stop ; for I have already exceeded the bounds of a 
letter, though I have come far short of doing justice to the dying de- 
portment of this dear friend. O may my last end be like hers. I 
would now proceed to discharge the duty, which Harriet's dying re- 
quest imposed on me, of administering consolation to you, and of 
beseeching the dear children to make a right improvement of this 
afflicting dispensation ; but I hope the God of all consolation will 
himself wipe away your tears, and fill your heart with comfort, and 
that Harriet's dying entreaties, and tears, and sighs, may be carried 
by the Spirit of truth to the hearts of the children, and of her other 
young friends, and may fasten conviction on their minds, and engage 
them to follow her so far as she followed Christ. With these hopes, 
I must bid them all an affectionate farewell. 

"Her remains were conveyed, on the 1st of December, to the 
burying ground in Port Louis, followed only by myself and another 
gentleman, and interred in a retired spot beneath the shade of an 
evergreen. 

Till Christ shall come to rouse the slumbering dead, 
Farewell, pale, lifeless clay, a long farewell ! 
Sweet be thy sleep beneath that green tree's shade, 
Where I have laid thee in thy lowly cell. 
Adieu, dear Harriet ; thou shalt sigh no more ; 
Thy conflict's ended, and thy toils are past ; 
Thy weary pilgrimage on earth is o'er, 
And thou hast reach'd thy wish'd for home at last." 

The homeless, sorrowing, lone writer of the above, soon after the 
interment of his beloved Harriet, left the Isle of France for Ceylon. 
After a residence of ten months in this Island, he departed to join his 
American brethren in Bombay, and united with them in laboring for 
the salvation of the surrounding heathen. Here, after seven short 
years, his compassionate Savior drew near, and called him to his rest 
in heaven, where we trust he enjoys a happy reunion with her, whose 
Christian walk and godlike converse, while on earth, did much to 
ripen him for Heavenly bliss. 

" Short toils, short woes, loved friends, were thine, 
Now, joys eternal and divine." 

Note.—- From the Life of Mrs. Newell, by the Rev. Dr. Woods. 



431 



MISS FANNY WOODBURY. 



This lady was the daughter of Mr. Isaac and Mrs. Anna Wood- 
bury, and was born at Hamilton, Mass., September 10, 1791. In 
her infancy, she was dedicated to God in baptism. 

Being from her birth of a slender constitution, she rarely enjoyed 
good health ; and was often brought apparently very near to death. 
When about three years old, her sense of hearing was greatly im- 
paired by a fever ; and her deafness, which sometimes very much 
increased, was one of her greatest trials through life. 

In the spring of 1807, when in the sixteenth year^of her age, she 
became a member of Bradford Academy. Here her natural dispo- 
sition to acquire knowledge and her taste for books were fully grati- 
fied ; and duly estimating the importance of cultivating the female 
mind, she improved to the utmost the facilities which she enjoyed 
for study. By constant application and great exertions, she secured 
an uncommon degree of information, and the advantage of her ef- 
forts was manifest in the high refinement which afterwards marked 
her mind. 

But the improvement of her intellectual powers was not the only 
important benefit which she derived from her residence at Bradford. 
It was there tnat she was brought to feel that she was a sinner — " that 
her heart," in her own words, "was exceedingly sinful and opposed 
to God, and her will so stubborn that it would not submit to him." 
Her attention, however, had been roused to the subject of religion 
the summer before, while at home in Beverly, by an account of the 
revival of religion among the members of Bradford Academy, which 
she received in a letter from her sister, then a member of that insti- 
tution. The narrative of the dealings of God there, brought her to 
a deep and solemn consideration of the subject, but it was not till 
she herself came under the influence of the same causes, and into 
the company of religious acquaintances of her own age, as she did 
there, that she secured an interest in the great salvation. "After 
this," she writes, "my feelings were changed; I saw God to be 
holy, just and good, and as such I loved him." After her return 
home in the fall she made a public profession of religion, by joining 
the second church in Beverly, of which the Rev. Moses Dow was 
pastor. Previous to this, at the time of her being propounded for 
admission, she privately made a solemn dedication of herself to God 
in writing, using the form of words given by Doddridge, in Chap. 17 
of his " Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul."* 



* See Memoirs of Mrs. Ramsay, p. 385. 



432 



MEMOIRS OF 



On the occasion of her admission into the church, she says in her 
diary, under date of Sept. 27, 1807, 

" I have now made a profession of the Christian religion, and 
given myself up to God in my youthful years. I trust I shall ever 
find satisfaction in what I have done. I have done it in the vigor of 
health, in the prime of my age. I choose to take up the cross, and 
daily to follow the blessed Jesus, rather than indulge myself in 
youthful pleasures. Indeed, I have not the least wish for the vain 
amusements of life. Religion alone is capable of giving that happi- 
ness, which will remain when every earthly comfort fails. If we 
are destitute of this, we are destitute of every thing which can ren- 
der us truly amiable in life, and happy through death and eternity. 

Among those whose friendship she secured in Bradford, was 
Harriet Atwood, whom she found of congenial sentiments and feel- 
ings, and capable of all the sensibilities and refinements of friend- 
ship ; and with her commenced that intercourse of heart and heart, 
and interchange of mutual endearments, which . many years and 
many vicissitudes served but to cement, strengthen, and improve. 
While they continued together at Bradford, they were much in each 
other's society — "they took sweet counsel together, and walked to 
the house of God in company." After their separation they fre- 
quently corresponded, and their intimacy continued till death inter- 
rupted it. Of Miss Woodbury's numerous letters to this her dear- 
est friend, but one has been preserved, which is here inserted. It 
was written after hearing of her determination to devote her life to 
the cause of Christ in India. 

Beverly, July 7, 1811. — Sabbath morn. 
My dear Miss Atwood, 

I have just laid down the Memoirs of Pious Women, which I am 
re-perusing, for the sake of answering your truly kind and valuable 
letter, for which I return you many thanks. Reading the life of the 
illustrious Countess of Warwick, in the book above mentioned, I re- 
cognized with heartfelt delight the blessed effects of genuine reli- 
gion. How does it purify the heart, refine and elevate the affection^ 
and influence and adorn the deportment ? Let the enemies of our 
religion substitute a better in its room, and we will acknowledge they 
have done something. But this they never have done, nor ever will 
do. How amiable the portraiture, " First pure, then peaceable, gen- 
tle, easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without par- 
tiality, and without hypocrisy." Has this religion, my beloved friend, 
a seat in our hearts ? and do we at all times act under its sacred in- 
fluence ? Have we imbibed the spirit of the meek and lowly Jesus? 
and do we emulate his bright example ? Do our affections, our 
hopes and our desires concentre in the unchangeable God ? Have 
we risen superior to the puerile and insipid delights of this lower 
world ; and learnt with humble Mary, to sit at Jesus' feet, and with 



MISS FANNY WOODBURY. 433 

avidity treasure up his words in our hearts ? Do we possess a faith 
in Christ, which is prolific of good works, and an ardent love to him, 
as the chief among ten thousands and altogether lovely ? If this is 
not the case, an inspired apostle would say of us, " Let them be 
Anathema, Maranatha." Let us examine ourselves, and see wheth- 
er we be in the faith. Let us bring our views, our feelings and our 
actions to that infallible criterion, the word of God, and endeavor to 
ascertain whether they comport with what it requires. I am more 
than ever impressed with the importance of a frequent, impartial and 
critical investigation of our hopes, characters, dispositions, and lives. 
T think it would be well every evening to take a retrospect of the 
day, and inquire, how we have performed the business of it, what 
duties neglected, what mercies received, and what sins committed. 
We have a great and arduous work to do ; and our time is short. 
We have evil tempers and propensities to subdue, and stubborn wills 
to conquer. We have an invisible and malicious adversary ever 
ready to annoy us. We have a battle to fight, a race to run, a 
crown to win. " The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence ; and 
the violent take it by force." It is obvious, our souls' cannot be 
saved, and heaven obtained by a few indolent formal wishes, and 
heartless duties. No, sedulous care and unremitting vigilance, and 
circumspection, are necessary. We must place our whole depen- 
dence on Jesus. He is all-sufficient, and, if we repair to him for 
grace and strength to do his will, he will not deny us. It is desira- 
ble to feel our own helplessness and nothingness, that we may value 
him the more, and place a more perfect reliance on his merits. 

Sabbath eve. — I have just returned from the house of God, where 
I have been indulged with hearing Mr. E. Oh that I could but ap- 
preciate my privileges as I ought, and make a wise improvement. 
How many of our dear fellow creatures are groping in horrid dark- 
ness, destitute of the heavenly light of the gospel, and enveloped in 
a gloomy labyrinth of Jewish, Mahometan, or Pagan superstition. 
Oh that the Sun of Righteousness would arise, and illumine those 
benighted corners of the earth with his benignant rays. I rejoice to 
hear there are a few, who are determined to quit their native land, 
to preach the everlasting gospel to illiterate, perishing Pagans. I 
have been apprised of your intention of going, and wish you had 
communicated some of your feelings, as it respects that subject. I 
am confident, my dear Miss Atwood, you will sit down and seriously 
count the cost, before you make any engagement. You have un- 
doubtedly revolved in your mind the trying sacrifices you must make; 
the hardships and distresses you must probably endure. If you go, 
I hope you will be enabled to do great and lasting good in those dis- 
tant climes, and give many a poor native reason to bless God through 
eternity that you came among them. When we consider that they 
have souls to be saved or lost, we are filled with amazement that no 
greater exertions have been made for the promulgation of the gospel 

55 



434 MEMOIRS OF 

among them. Surely Jesus has done much for us ; and now can- 
not we do something for him ? We should consider no sacrifices too 
great to be made, no trials too great to be endured, if thereby we 
can advance his cause and promote his glory. " It is the only cause 
on earth worth an anxious thought," says the excellent Dr. G. And 
what great matter is it in which quarter of the globe we reside, for 
an " inch or two of time," whether in Asia, or America, if we can 
be doing good? The idea of parting with you is extremely painful; 
but, if you go, I shall still have the rich consolation of thinking of 
you, and reading your letters, all of which I have preserved. In 
imagination I shall often visit Hindostan, and with ineffable delight 
behold you instructing the poor Hindoos. I shall participate in your 
joys and sorrows, and wish you the presence and the smiles of the 
prince of peace. May you live eminently devoted to Him here on 
earth, and enjoy an eternity of consummate bliss and unfading glory 
with him in heaven. 

You will perceive I have adverted to the difficulties and trials, 
which you must encounter in your intended migration ; but I hope 
they will be no discouragement. No situation in life is exempt from 
trouble. I trust you will have wisdom from above, to direct you in 
this and every important undertaking. I wish you would favor me 
with a visit. I long to see you. You must write. I shall inquire 
for a letter from you, when I see Bradford friends, and I hope I 
shall not be disappointed. Present my respects to your mother, and 
love to all dear friends. While I trust you are all engagedness in 
religion, and enjoying times of refreshing from the presence of the 
Lord, oh do remember your vile, worthless, stupid friend, 

Fanny Woodbury. 

When the news of the death of her beloved friend, on a distant 
island, reached her, it may well be imagined that no common feel- 
ings were roused to action. Her journal records a train of interest- 
ing and pathetic reflections on the event, which, after a glance at 
the happy and peaceful state of her friend in heaven, she thus con- 
cludes. 

" Well, my dear Harriet, I leave you there, and when all the 
transient joys and sorrows of this mortal life shall cease to interest 
me, when my spirit is just ready to part from earth, and commence 
its flight through space, may you hail its entrance into that bright 
world, where you have already arrived, to spend endless ages in re- 
hearsing the wonders of redeeming love. 

" Ah, how many fervent prayers have been lodged in the court of 
heaven for my dear Harriet, while she was beyond their reach, em- 
ployed in cheerful praise. Well, they shall not be lost, if offered in 
real faith and sincerity. But though I supplicate for her no more, 
yet let me not cease to remember the little mission in which she was 
so ardently interested, and which she bore on her heart, when almost 



MISS FANNY WOODBURY. 435 

overwhelmed with personal trials. Let me not forget perishing Pa- 
gans, whose hapless state she so pathetically deplored, and whose 
immortal salvation she longed to secure. Let me not forget to de- 
posit her letters in my heart, as the surest pledge of our reciprocal 
affection, and the living transcript of the inward recesses of her 
breast. Farewell this theme — I drop my pen and sigh, adieu." 

Similar emotions were afterwards excited by the perusal of the 
memoirs of Mrs. Newell. 

"May 12, 1814. — Last night was chiefly spent in reading the 
writings of my departed Harriet, and sweetly melancholy it was to 
my soul. " Safe is she lodged above these rolling spheres," far dis- 
tant from this land of sorrow and region of death. After many a 
struggle and many a tear, she has arrived at the mansion of uncloud- 
ed bliss, and peacefully rests in Eden's bower. And does she not 
from her golden seat cast a pitying look on her dear Fanny, wander- 
ing forlorn in this vale of tears ? Does she not witness the mourn- 
ing tears and tender sighs of bereaved affection, and gently whisper, 
"Weep not for Harriet, but redeem the time, fulfil your work, and 
come and join me in our Father's blest abode ?" O Harriet, my 
much loved Harriet, shall our spirits one day meet and be blest with 
a friendship, which separation cannot wound, nor death destroy ? 
which shall glow with seraphic fire in endless day ? Tossed to and 
fro on the tempestuous sea of life, distressed with fears, assaulted by 
temptation, oppressed with iniquities, shall I ever find my way to a 
brighter world ? O why tarry I here, seeing I groan day after day 
over an unprofitable life, and spend my time in vain ? Is not the 
hour of release at hand, and shall I not soon drink abundantly of 
the wine of my Father's kingdom, and feast on fruit, dropping sweet- 
ly from the tree of life ? Haste, my beloved, shorten these inter- 
posing days, and receive my parting spirit to thy glorious rest. 

"May 13,-^The years that are past arise to my view, and pre- 
sent cause for deep humiliation, self-abasement and contrition. Ah ! 
they are recorded in the annals of eternity, with all their numerous 
misimprovements, imperfections and sins. Not one moment of them 
can ever be recalled; not one action ever be undone. As I kneeled 
before the throne this eve, as usual, I ruminated on what 1 have been 
and what I now am, and the tears of sorrow stole gently down ; and 
when I was engaged in supplication, I was blest with some fixedness, 
ardor and importunity, and found the season grateful to my soul." 

Although she had a high relish for social intercourse, especially 
for social worship, yet her dearest, sweetest, noblest comforts, she 
found in solitude. There, in her beloved chamber, which she seem- 
ed to regard as a little sanctuary — there, secluded from every mortal 
eye and mortal care, she could most freely and fully enjoy her pen, 
her Bible, and her God. Three times a day, like Daniel, did she 
retire, to hold sweet intercourse with Him, in whom her soul de- 
lighted ; and sometimes she continued the employment for hours. 



436 MEMOIRS OF 

When her friends desired an interest in her prayers, she was deeply 
impressed wkh the importance of complying with their requests. A 
few months before her death, a friend said to her, " I have a cousin, 
whose situation is peculiarly favorable to self-examination. Do pray 
for him, Fanny, for he is very stupid." About six weeks afterwards 
there was some reason to hope that he had found Christ, as his all 
in all. It was said to Miss Woodbury, " Have you ever prayed for 
him ?" She replied, " I have not once attempted to supplicate the 
throne of grace, without pleading on his behalf." 

She had a very deep sense of the worth and preciousness of time. 
But holy time was in her esteem by far the most precious. Very 
few, if any, could more feelingly "call the Sabbath a delight." Not- 
withstanding her difficulty of hearing, she had a remarkable fondness 
for public worship. To one, who often walked with her to the house 
of God in company, she was accustomed to say, when about to enter 
the sanctuary, " Now I do hope our souls will be richly fed." "Do 
let us hear as for eternity," and the like. 

Her religious sentiments were decidedly evangelical. The great 
doctrines of the cross were her meat and her drink, her joy and her 
glory. She often lamented the abounding errors of the day, espe- 
cially that which robs the Savior of his divinity, by reducing him to 
the level of a dependent being. 

Deeply imbibing the spirit of the doctrines which she loved and 
advocated, she seemed constantly to breathe forth love to God, and 
good will to mankind. As a child, she was respectful and obedient; 
as a sister, affectionate and kind ; as a friend, sincere and constant ; 
as a a correspondent, punctual and faithful. 

Although, in consequence of her natural diffidence and inability 
of hearing, she was in general rather reserved, yet to a few intimate 
friends, whom she tenderly loved as the friends of Immanuel, she 
was remarkably open and communicative. Of the two principal 
characteristics of true friendship, tenderness and faithfulness, it may 
be difficult to ascertain for which she was most distinguished. When 
about to part with her friends, she was accustomed to give them 
some warm exhortation, such as, "Do live near to God ;" " Fray 
much and fervent;" "Press forward with all speed." 

With regard to the poor, she was by no means disposed to dismiss 
them with " Be ye warmed, be ye filled," when it was in her power 
to relieve them. So far from stopping her ears at the cry of the 
poor, or turning away her eyes from beholding the needy, she sought 
them out in their dreary cells, and there she caused the heart of the 
widow and the fatherless to sing for joy. Nor was she satisfied with 
relieving their temporal wants. It was her ardent prayer and exer- 
tion, that they might be fed with the bread of life, and clothed with 
the garments of salvation. 

The sick and the afflicted had a share in her tender sympathies; 
and it was her melancholy delight to visit, assist, and console them. 



MISS FANNY WOODBURY. 437 

She was a striking example of industry and economy. A large 
part of her time was spent in discharging the duties of the domestic 
circle. When her eyes were occupied with reading, her hands were 
generally employed to some useful purpose. Like Dorcas, she made 
garments for the poor. After her death, several garments, suitable 
for the approaching season, were found, which she had carefully pre- 
pared, and laid by for distribution. Almost the whole of what she 
bestowed in charity was the fruit of her own industry. She often 
expressed her astonishment, that Christians would suffer so much of 
their time to be lost in idleness ; adding, that if their own circum- 
stances did not require the fruit of their labors, the poor were ever 
needy. 

The extension of Christ's kingdom was a subject which peculiarly 
affected her heart. To hear of a revival of religion, was to her like 
life from the dead. The poor heathen were much upon her mind. 
She took a very lively interest in exertions, to spread the gospel, and 
evangelize the world. 

Perhaps the most remarkable trait in her character was a realizing 
sense of future scenes ; especially during two or three of the last 
years of her life. It really seemed, that the world was dead to her, 
and she to the world. She manifestly felt, that she wrote for eter- 
nity, and lived for eternity. Eternity, with all its tremendous reali- 
ties, seemed present to her view. It was remarked by those, with 
whom she met for social prayer, that she appeared to feel a strong 
impression, that her time on earth was short. They observed an 
unusual fervor in her petitions. She seemed already an inhabitant 
of the heavenly world. 

The last passage recorded in her journal seems the aspiration of a 
soul already weaned from earth, purified from its corruptions, and 
made meet to be a partaker of the inheritance of the saints in light. 

" Oct. 2. — Have this day been permitted to sit down at the table of 
my divine Redeemer, and again renew my engagements to be his. 
But ah, what coldness, what indifference, what amazing stupidity 
usurp their sway over my heart, and paralize every rising emotion of 
piety. What infinite reason have I to abase myself below all man- 
kind, and freely confess, I am of sinners the very chief. I need true 
humility, a deep and abiding view of my own depravity, while faith's 
enlightened eye fastens on the bleeding Lamb of God, and points to 
a region where perfection flourishes in immortal charms. Beauteous 
indeed must be that house not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens, filled with holy inhabitants, and abounding with every bless- 
ing its maker can devise. May I be so favored as to find some hum- 
ble mansion there, when this earthly tenement shall be dissolved by the 
chilling blast of death, and sink beneath the sod. O my Redeemer, 
be thou my Sun to illumine my path through this benighted world, 
and to gild the lonely vale of death with some heavenly ray. Let 
the precious blood with which thou didst once crimson the rugged 



438 memoirs, toe- 

nails and accursed cross, be efficaciously applied to my polluted soul, 
that it may be a temple fit for thee. Come, my Savior, remove 
this interposing veil, and disclose to me those bonndless charms of 
thine, which inflame the bosom of the most exalted seraph with ec- 
stasy, and tune his heart to celebrate thy praise." 

These were, probably, the last words she ever wrote. About the 
middle of October she was seized with an inflammation of the brain, 
which in a few weeks showed fatal symptoms, and removed all hope 
of recovery. On her death-bed her spirit was moved with tender 
regard and anxiety for those whom she left behind her, and on this 
solemn occasion, feeling that the subjects were too awfully interesting 
and affecting to be presented by her verbally, she dictated a farewell 
address to all her relatives, friends and correspondents, and to the 
church, full of gentle warning, and affectionate counsel, which came 
to them like the words of "a spirit already on the wing for immor- 
tality." 

Through the whole course of her very distressing sickness her 
appearance was such as we might reasonably expect from a person of 
her character. It is thought that very few have ever exhibited clearer 
evidence of living the life, and dying the death of the righteous. 

From " the writings of Miss Fanny Woodbury ; selected and edited by the Rev, 
Joseph Emerson, of Beverly." 



439 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 



Mrs. Susan Huntington was a daughter of the Rev. Achil- 
les Mansfield, of Killingworth, in the State of Connecticut. In 
this place her father was ordained to the ministry of the Gospel in 
the year 1779, and continued the Pastor of the First Church until 
death closed his labors in 1814. This gentleman was a native of 
New Haven, a graduate of Yale College, and a respectable, useful, 
and much esteemed minister of Christ ; and for many years previous 
to his death, was a member of the Corporation of the College at 
which he had received his education. On the maternal side, Mrs. 
Huntington was descended from that pious man, so illustrious in the 
annals of the New England churches, the Rev. John Eliot of 
Roxbury. Mass., who will bear, to future ages, the honorable title 
of "the Indian Apostle." Mrs. Mansfield was a daughter of Jo- 
seph Eliot of Killingworth, whose father, Jared Eliot, D. D., 
minister of Killingworth, was a son of the Rev. Joseph Eliot, of 
Guilford Conn., and grandson of the venerable John Eliot of Rox- 
bury. 

Susan Mansfield was the youngest of three children. She 
was born January 27, 1791. Her childhood was marked by sensi- 
bility, sobriety and tenderness of conscience, and a taste for reading. 
Her education was chiefly, under the paternal roof, and at the com- 
mon schools in her native town. The only instruction she received 
from any other source, was at a classical school kept in Killingworth, 
during two seasons. Her parents, however, devoted much of their 
time and attention to her instruction. And as her constitution was 
delicate from infancy, she was suffered to gratify her inclination, in 
devoting most of her time to the cultivation of her mind, by reading 
and efforts at composition. 

In reference to the formation of her religious character, a friend 
of her youth remarks in a letter to the compiler, "blessed as she 
was with a tenderness of conscience, very, unusual from her earli- 
est years, which was exhibited in all her intercourse, at home and 
abroad, and with the faithful instructions of her parents, who were 
living examples of what Christians ought to be, and were constantly 
endeavoring to instil into the minds of their children sentiments of 
piety, of the deepest reverence towards God, of love to the Savior, 
and of universal benevolence and good will towards men — it is diffi- 
cult to fix on any precise time when her serious impressions com- 
menced. She appeared to have been, in a measure sanctified from 
her birth, and from the first dawn of reason, to need only to be in- 
formed what her duty was, to perform it." There is evidence, how- 



440 MEMOIRS OF 

ever, that, for a time at least after she was capable of understanding 
her duty and her obligations to God, her heart was not devoted to 
him. In a letter to her son dated Jan. 13, 1823., she speaks of hav- 
ing a distinct remembrance of a solemn consultation in her mind, 
when she was about three years old, whether it was best to be a 
Christian then, or not, and of having come to the decision that it 
was not. But the God to whom she had been dedicated, and whose 
blessing her parents had so often and fervently supplicated in her be- 
half, did not suffer her long to rest in this sinful determination. 
When about five years of age, she was brought by the Holy Spirit 
to consider the duty and consequences of becoming a Christian, in- 
deed more seriously, and in the opinion of her parents and of other 
pious acquaintances, to choose God for her portion. Of the correct- 
ness of this conclusion of her parents and friends she always enter 
tained doubts, and regarded a season of deepest, and in her view, 
more scriptural, religious impression, when about ten years of age, 
as the commencement of holiness in her heart. She made a public 
profession of her faith in Christ, and joined the church of which her 
father was pastor, on the 19th of April, 1807; having just entered 
her seventeenth year. 

About this time she commenced a private Journal, which was con- 
tinued till her marriage, but which she destroyed a short time before 
her death. Of her other writings during the period just mentioned, 
which were numerous, there remain only some lettters, and a few 
pieces of poetry. The following are extracts from the letters of 
this early date which the compiler has been able to obtain. 

TO A FRIEND AT N. H. 

Killingivorth March, 4, 1808. 
I have read the sweet little poem,* whose admirable author you 
so much admire, and am happy that we are alike pleased with it. 
Some of his descriptions are inimitably charming and picturesque, 
and some of his observations concerning the ways of providence very 
just, especially when he says 

One part, one little part we dimly scan, &c. 

in which he is condemning us for doubting the wisdom and goodness 
of providence. My ideas correspond with his on this interesting 
subject, for I firmly believe that 

Oft from apparent ill, our blessings rise. 

All things, we are assured, work together for good to them that 
love God. And as we are ignorant of the manner in which our 
heavenly Father is pleased to overrule events for our happiness, it is 
extremely reprehensible in us to be dissatisfied with any of his ap- 



Beattie's Minstrel. 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 441 

pointments. The prayer of the true Christian is, ' make me happy 
with prosperity ; but, above all, give me conformity to, and content- 
ment with thy will.' 

I have been reading Cowper also, and love his sentiments, his ex- 
pressions, and his works entire, dearly. Perhaps you will think I 
speak with the rapture of an enthusiast, rather than with the reason- 
able animation of a reasonable creature. But how can one fail to be 
delighted with the mild, delicate and pious sentiments which contin- 
ually flow from the amiable author of the The Task ? in all his ex- 
pressions he is " simple, grave, sincere ;" his style, alike removed 
from the turgid and the weak, and particularly free from that affec- 
tation which was his " perfect scorn." 

I cannot sufficiently express the value I place upon this excellent 
work. Some of his " winter evening" descriptions fill me with plea- 
sure, I, in fancy, visit the lonely spots he describes, and wander with 
him over each heath and plain. I love the man for his meek and be- 
nevolent spirit. His writings are entirely free from that acrimony 
(which distinguishes some of the English poets) of satire against any 
class whom he disliked. 

The intelligence that the Lord is visiting you with the showers of 
his grace, and causing the Sun of righteousness to shine on N. H., 
and the neighboring towns, affords me unspeakable pleasure. 

If I know my own heart, I ardently long for the universal promul- 
gation and reception of that religion which alone can make men hap- 
py. And blessed be the God of mercies ! he will not leave his work 
unfinished. I rejoice that so many are hopefully turned from dark- 
ness to light. May this happy state of things long continue, and 
your light shine more and more unto the perfect day. 

TO MISS L. AT NEW HAVEN. 

Killingworth, Sept. 21, 1808. 

In writing to you, my dear M., I shall, with a confidence which 
our friendship justifies, throw away all unnecessary reserve, and use 
the freedom of a friend and sister. In communicating every inci- 
dent which is interesting to me, and seeking in you, when I am in 
trouble, that sympathy and consolation which I hope to find in one 
whose mind is so congenial with my own, I shall enjoy your society, 
though I am separated from you. And in such correspondence — ■ 
which it is my wish may be maintained between us while life shall 
last — we shall find much pleasure, and, I hope, some profit. When 
I go to Boston, I do not expect to have any regular correspondent 
but you ; as other necessary and unavoidable engagements will prob- 
ably, prevent my retaining more than one. I shall therefore wish 
you to write me frequently, that we may not cease to think of and 
love each other. 

I received a letter last week from Gen. Huntington. He informs 
me of the melancholy death of his daughter-in-law, at N., of whom 

56 



442 MEMOIRS OF 

you have heard me speak in terms of affection and admiration. She 
was one of the excellent of the earth ; an ornament to her sex, and 
to the religion of Christ. Her usefulness here is now at an end. 
God had prepared her for glory, and he has taken her to himself. 
In the misdst of life we are in death. Oh ! that we, my dear M., 
would learn to consider ourselves as pilgrims and strangers on the 
earth, and to live with a constant reference to eternity ; that when the 
solemn hour of death shall come, we may 

look back on every sorrow past, 
And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile. 



TO A FRIEND AT N. Y. 

Killingworth; February 19, 1809. 
What, my dear N., would be our sensations did we suppose, like 
many learned infidels, that this narrow sphere of being was the whole 
of our existence ? Dreadful indeed would be the thought ; that man 
was destined only to tread for a few short days this speck of crea- 
tion, and then sink to nought ! What could ever have induced cul- 
tivated and aspiring minds, to imbibe notions so degrading to our 
nature as these ; notions which make us but a little higher than the 
beasts that perish, and which preclude all desires and exertions for 
nobler joys than those of time and sense ? Futurity is the Chris- 
tian's hope. In the gospel, life and immortality are brought to light. 
Death shall be swallowed up of victory. Then grace shall be per- 
fected, and glory consummated. Then shall we know even as we 
are known ; whatever appeared mysterious and incomprehensible to 
our finite capacities, shall be elucidated ; God will be seen to have 
done all things well, and to be just in justifying them that believe. 

On the eighteenth of May, 1S09, Miss Mansfield was married 
to the Rev. Joshua Huntington, son of Gen. Jedidiah Hunt- 
ington of New London, Conn., and junior pastor of the Old South 
Church in Boston, Mass., which became, immediately after, the place 
of her residence. 

The letter, of which the following is an extract, was written soon 
after her removal to Boston. 

TO A SISTER-IN-LAW, AT N. L. 

Boston, May 30, 1809. 
Our ride was very pleasant. I am delighted with the country 
around Boston, and think the town is handsomely situated, and I 
doubt not I shall be pleased with the inhabitants. But, my dear 
friend, flattering as is the prospect before us, I cannot contemplate 
the responsibility of the station in which I am placed, its total dissim- 
ilarity to that to which I have been accustomed, and the arduous du- 
ties resulting from it, together with my own inability to perform them 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 443 

as I ought, without feeling a degree of anxiety lest 1 be found wholly 
unqualified for the situation. Did I not believe that the bounds of 
our habitations are not accidental, but determined by the providence 
of God, I should sink under the weight of responsibility which now 
rests upon me. But I do believe that the Lord has placed me here; 
he it is who calls me to the arduous duties in which I am now to en- 
gage, and I desire — I think I feel in some degree enabled, to trust in 
him for wisdom and strength to guide and sustain me. 

I have as yet seen but few of Mr. H.'s congregation. But, if I 
may form a judgment from those who have called, I think I shall find 
among them many who cherish an ardent attachment to the doc- 
trines, and maintain a consistent practice of the duties, of the Gos- 
pel, unmoved by the prevalence of error, — many real disciples of 
the blessed Jesus. I do not doubt therefore, but I shall be happy, 
for it is chiefly the society which renders a place agreeable or un- 
pleasant. 

In July of this year Mrs. Huntington made a visit to her parents. 
While with them, she wrote several letters to her friends in different 
parts of the country, from some of which the following extracts have 
been taken. 

TO A SISTER-IN-LAW, AT N. L. 

Killingworth, August 1, 1809. 

It is a week to day, my dear E., since I bade adieu to your pleas- 
ant town ; and I am the more desirous of taking this early opportuni- 
ty to write you, as I suppose you will be anxious to know whether 
I reached home in safety. That I left your family with regret, you 
will not doubt ; but that the parting would have been so painful as it 
was, I could not have imagined. It was justifiable in me to suffer 
myself to become attached to you ; situated as I was, it would have 
been unpardonable if I had not. But I believe that if we would not 
suffer our affections to become so ardent, as we sometimes do, for 
those whose society we cannot long enjoy, the separations we must 
experience in this life would be far less distressing. Some however 
would say, and perhaps not without reason, this would be the philos- 
ophy of a stoic. 

Our ride was as pleasant as could be expected, and our sail as 
agreeable as high and adverse winds would permit. I found our 
family well, and happy to see me, and my dear little native village 
appeared very lovely, after my short residence amid the noise and 
bustle of a giddy metropolis. Did I not believe, with Milton, that 
the mind is its own place, and in itself can make every circumstance 
and situation, merely temporal, productive of happiness or misery, 
and did I not also believe the more consolatory doctrine, that all 
things and events are under the direction of One who cannot err, I 
should sometimes be almost disposed to sigh for the solitude to which 



444 MEMOIRS OF 

my mind and feelings are so well adapted. But I trust that the sit- 
uation in which providence has placed me, if it exposes me more to 
temptation than my former one, will also lead me to more watchful- 
ness and caution ; and that I shall be enabled to fill properly that sta- 
tion which is " a call to duty, not a discharge from care." 

TO MISS L., OF N. H. 

Boston, January 1, 1810. 

Through the kindness of providence, I reached this place in safe- 
ty ; and now you doubtless wish to know where and how I am situa- 
ted. We have been keeping house seven or eight weeks, and as I 
have for company one to whom the management of a family is famil- 
iar, I get along very well. Happiness, I find, is confined to no par- 
ticular state or place : and I can say with the Psalmist, (I wish it 
were with the same pious gratitude,) Goodness and mercy have fol- 
lowed me all the days of my life. I also find, as I have always found, 
that no situation is exempt from trouble ; and, while surrounded by 
blessings which demand my thankful acknowledgments, I see and 
feel, in myself, and in those about me, numberless evils which excite 
pain, and should produce humiliation. To the soul which can, with 
unshaken faith, repose, not only its own cares, but those of others in 
whom it is interested, on the arm of Him who is mighty to save, and 
which can view every event, whatever be its nature or effects, as ne- 
cessary to answer some wise design of providence, nothing can be so 
distressing as entirely to break its peace. 

The truth of this remark is, I think, evinced by the conduct of 
some Christians in this place, who, though they mourn the sad de- 
clension of vital piety here, are filled with joy and confidence in God, 
and feel that, should the times grow darker and darker, they could 
still trust in Him who is able to dispel the clouds of ignorance and 
sin which hang over us, and cause the righteousness of Zion to go 
forth as brightness, and the salvation thereof as a lamp that burneth. 
Nor does the persuasion that when God sees it most for his glory to 
pour out his Spirit upon us he will do it, lead them to indulge in su- 
pineness and indifference in requesting it and using the means to ob- 
tain it ; for they remember that the promise is made to those who 
ask and knock and seek and strive, and that God has said he will be 
inquired of by the house of Israel to do these things for them. I be- 
lieve, however, that this high degree of grace is acquired, and retain- 
ed without interruption, by very few ; though it is the duty, and, but 
for our wickedness, might be the privilege, of all believers to acquire 
and preserve it. 

When are S. and E. to be married ? Dear girls ! I hope they will 
be happy in this state, which must be very happy, or very miserable. 
I am no advocate for cold esteem only, between those who are to 
live together, and in so close a connexion, through life. But I be- 
lieve extravagant, misjudged attachment misleads more than that of 



MBS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 445 

an opposite character. If the understanding and judgment condemn 
what the passions only approve, and if this is the substance of the 
love which is to unite husband and wife, there is great danger of its 
proving like a fire of dry stubble, which, though it may burn to the 
skies for the present moment, soon dies away, to be enkindled no 
more. 



TO A FRIEND AT 



Boston, August 15, 1811. 
It gives me great pleasure, my dear friend, to learn that you are 
so well pleased with your new situation, and that your society are so 
well pleased with you ; which I learned from a friend of yours. 
The approbation of those with whom you are connected, is desira- 
ble, if it does not interfere with, or divert us from duty. Our influ- 
ence depends upon the opinion others entertain of us; and influence, 
rightly used, may promote the glory of God and the best interests of 
men. I have no doubt but my dear will improve every advan- 
tage she may have from the estimation of her friends, to advance His 
kingdom and cause, to whose glory our every talent should be devoted. 
The wife of a clergyman is more narrowly watched, than almost any 
one else. Her deviations from duty are very seldom overlook- 
ed ; her opinions are minutely examined and often repeated. She 
is thought to take her notions of things to a considerable extent, 
from her husband ; and of course he suffers if she is imprudent. 
When I reflect on the responsibilities of this situation I tremble ; and 
should faint, had not One, whose strength I sometimes feel as if I 
could lay hold upon, said, " my grace is sufficient for thee." 



TO MISS L., OF N. H. 



Boston, March 20, 1812. 
It will give you pleasure to hear that for some time before the birth 
of my child, I enjoyed a degree of spiritual comfort scarcely ever 
felt before — not as high overflowings of natural feeling, but a sweet 
and delightful calm, arising from the consciousness of the infinite in- 
tegrity, faithfulness, holiness and goodness of God ; and that these 
feelings were continued, for the most part, during my sickness. I 
am only astonished, and I hope grieved, that 1 love and serve the 
blessed Jehovah no better. When I reflect on his unbounded good- 
ness to me who deserve nothing, on the infinite excellence and holi- 
ness of his character, and my obligations as a ransomed sinner and 
a lawful subject, I wonder at myself; I wonder that heart, soul and 
life, and all, are not unreservedly yielded to Him who deserves more 
than I can give. Oh, my friend, remember me at the throne of 
grace. Pray that my soul may not be, as it were, the grave of 
God's mercies ; that I may not be entirely dead in the vineyard 
of my gracious Lord, who has, as I humbly trust, redeemed me to 
God by his own precious blood. How sweet a passage is this, " the 



446 MEMOIRS OF 

love of Christ constraineth us, &c"? How desirable to be thus con- 
strained to live, not to ourselves, but to Him who died for us and rose 
again ? 

In May of this year Mrs. Huntington commenced a second Jour- 
nal, which was continued till near the time of her death, and has 
been preserved. 

Her motives in commencing this record of the Lord's dealings 
with her, are thus stated by herself, in an introductory paragraph : 
" having of late been impressed with a conviction of the expediency 
of taking down written memorials of special mercies, I shall, from 
this time forward, endeavor to do it. My reasons for it are these, 
1. The remembrance of mercies will lead me to extol the goodness 
of God. 2. I shall always have them before me as delightful incite- 
ments to duty. 3. Such a remembrance will lead me to trust in 
God in seasons of doubt and distress. 4. It will ever shew me the 
weakness and wickedness of yielding to despondency, my besetting 
sin. And, oh ! may the record of the gracious dealings of my 
God ever serve to quicken, enliven and encourage me and make me 
faithful, for Christ's sake, Amen." 

In the subsequent part of these Memoirs, extracts will be made 
from this Journal, and from her letters, promiscuously, in the order 
of their respective dates, without any other distinction than the mode 
of entering them, which will at once indicate to the reader from 
which they are taken. 

March 21, 1812. — Deeply impressed with a sense of the vast im- 
portance of a mother's duties, and the lasting effect of youthful im- 
pressions, 1 this day resolve to endeavor, at all times, by my pre- 
cepts and my example, to inspire my children with just notions of 
right and wrong, of what is to be avoided and what pursued, of 
what is sacredly to be desired, and what unreservedly deprecated. 
And, as my firm opinion is that we are formed to glorify God, and 
that to enjoy him is our highest happiness, I will endeavor, by a life 
corresponding with this belief, to convince my children that God's 
glory is my ultimate aim in all that I do, and the enjoyment of him 
my most ardent desire, my unremitted pursuit, and my unspeakable 
comfort. I will endeavor, by avoiding all superfluous concern about 
dress, furniture, worldly accomplishments, &c, not to counteract 
my precepts, and thus inspire my children with the idea that, what 
I say, I think the highest good, I really view but as a secondary con- 
sideration ; to act uniformly as if a desire after the one thing need- 
ful, was an abiding, influential principle in all my conduct and pur- 
suits. May God give me grace to keep these resolutions ! 

23. — Indulged in many anxious anticipations. Did not sufficiently 
realize that all is at the disposal of a Being of infinite wisdom, and 
was therefore careful about many things. Well might the prophet 
say, " thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 447 

thee." The doctrines of the holy Scriptures are calculated to main- 
tain the soul in uniform serenity. It is our unbelief that counteracts 
their influence. Oh ! for grace to view futurity as the only consum- 
mation of life and happiness, and to see that every, thing, however 
to present gratification, has an ultimate reference to it, that there 
is a " need be" for all these things, and that the time is coming when 
every dark providence shall be cleared up, and it shall be made 
manifest that every event of this mortal state has been necessary in 
the great operations of the director of all things, to perfect the work 
of redeeming grace ! how sweet it will be to trace the blessed con- 
catenation of causes and effects, and give glory to him who hath in 
all things made us more than conquerors ! 

Oh, may I bear some humble part 

In that immortal song! 
Wonder and joy shall fill my heart, 

And love inspire my tongue. 

January 22. — When I hear females, as I sometimes do, depreca- 
ting the connectedness of domestic life, and eagerly panting after the 
employments and publicity of philosophers, statesmen and legislators, 
I am led to think that my life, in the little sphere of my family, must 
be more varied than theirs, or they could not consider the duties of 
the domestic circle as unimportant, or devoid of excitements. It is 
true, if the meed to be obtained were mere human applause, the fe- 
male part of the world would have but little opportunity to shine ; 
and might justly complain of the narrowness of their sphere, and the 
insignificance of their lot. But when it is considered that the qual- 
ity of actions is determined by God, and that, in his view, the per- 
son who tears from his bosom a right-hand sin, or performs a self- 
denying duty, is greater than the hero or the conqueror, considered 
only as such ; how is the case altered ? how does it dignify any sta- 
tion which is calculated to produce these effects ? The woman, 
therefore, who complains of the obscurity of her condition, feels and 
talks like a heathen. She virtually professes to value the praise of 
men more than the praise of God ; and is likely, by her impiety and 
folly, to forfeit both. In performing the duties of private life, no 
Christian will have reason to complain that he has not sufficient ex- 
citement to duty, or sufficiently numerous calls for the use of all his 
intellectual and moral powers. The various and complicated vexa- 
tions and trials, pains and sufferings, privations and disappointments, 
which perpetually occur in the best organized and most favored fam- 
ily, are enough to convince him, that there is no time to sleep, that 
much is to be done, and that he has need of all his strength and wis- 
dom to decide, and resolve, and act. If the end of all that we set 
ourselves about ought to be to mend the heart, (and no Christian will 
deny that it ought ;) what situation is so favorable for this, as that 
which teaches the soul what are its besetting sins, and offers no il- 
lusive temptations to self-delusion, no poisonous reward to virtues 



448 MEMOIRS OF 

which our consciences tell us are defective at the core ? The nat- 
ural effect of public applause is to produce self-ignorance and decep- 
tion, for the standard of morals is extremely low and defective in the 
world; and the popular man will give himself credit for virtues 
which, either are worthless in the sight of God, or he does not pos- 
sess. How awful, when death shall turn him from the decisions of a 
world blind and partial, to Him who looketh on the heart ! Oh, that 
in humility of mind, I may ever prefer that condition which leads me 
to the most intimate knowledge of myself! that I may be enabled to 
profit by such a knowledge, and rejoice to become nothing that God 
may be all in all. 

February 7. — There is scarcely any subject concerning which I 
feel more anxiety, than the proper education of my children. It is 
a difficult and delicate subject ; and the more I reflect on my duty 
to them the more I feel how much is to be learnt by myself. The 
person who undertakes to form the infant mind, to cut off the distorted 
shoots, and direct and fashion those which may, in due time, become 
fruitful and lovely branches, ought to possess a deep and accurate 
knowledge of human nature. It is no easy task to ascertain, not on- 
ly the principles and habits of thinking, but also the causes which 
produce them. It is no easy task, not only to watch over actions, 
but also to become acquainted with the motives which prompted 
them. It is no easy task, not only to produce correct associations, 
but to undo improper ones, which may, through the medium of those 
nameless occurrences to which children are continually exposed, 
have found a place in the mind. But such is the task of every moth- 
er who superintends the education of her children. Add to this the 
difficulty of maintaining that uniform and consistent course of con- 
duct which children ought always to observe in their parents, and 
which alone can give force to the most judicious discipline ; and, 
verily, every considerate person must allow, that it is no small mat- 
ter to be faithful in the employment of instructors of infancy and 
youth. Not only must the precept be given, Love not the world ; 
but the life must speak the same. Not only must we exhort our in- 
fant charge to patience under their little privations and sorrows, but 
we must also practice those higher exercises of submission which, 
they will easily perceive, are but the more vigorous branches of the 
same root whose feeble twigs they are required to cultivate. Not 
only must we entreat them to seek first the kingdom of God, but we 
must be careful to let them see, that we are not as easily depressed 
by the frowns, or elated by the smiles, of the world, as others. In 
short, nothing but the most persevering industry in the acquisition 
of necessary knowledge, the most indefatigable application of that 
knowledge to particular cases, the most decisive adherence to a con- 
sistent course of piety, and, above all, the most unremitted supplica- 
tions to Him who alone can enable us to resolve and act correctly, 
can qualify us to discharge properly the duties which devolve upon 
every mother. 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 449 

June 4. — Yesterday I went to the meeting at Mrs. M.'s* as usu- 
al, but was in a very stupid frame. I did not feel a sense of the 
divine presence, or scarcely any desire to seek it. Jn the night I 
awoke about two o'clock ; and was led, first, to reflect on my insen- 
sibility, the preceding day ; and then, on the sufficiency of Christ to 
atone for my sins, and strengthen me for the future day. I did not 
have as deep a sense of my guilt as I desired ; but I seemed to feel 
sensibly what I ought to be — that I ought to live for God, that I ought 
to maintain a constant spirit of prayer, for myself, my children and 
this miserable world ; and it seemed as if I could get up and go to 
work, to some purpose, about my Master's business. Oh, it is de- 
lightful to feel as if the first wish of our hearts was to fulfil the great 
purpose of our existence, as if we had caught something of the spirit 
of the heavenly world, and desired principally to be, and do, and suf- 
fer, just what God pleases. 

Oct. 25. — What a delicate office is that of a mother ! How wa- 
ry should be her footsteps, how spotless her example, how uniform 
her patience, how extensive her knowledge of the human heart, how 
great her skill in using that knowledge, by the most vigilant and stren- 
uous application of it in every variety of occurring circumstances, to 
enlighten the understanding and reform the heart ! Legislators and 
governors have to enact laws, and compel men to observe them ; 
mothers, have to implant the principles, and cultivate the disposi- 
tions, which alone can make good citizens and subjects. The form- 
er have to exert authority over characters already formed ; the lat- 
ter, have to mould the character of the future man, giving it a shape 
which will make him, either an instrument of good to the world, or 
a pest in the lap of society. Oh that a constant sense of the impor- 
tance and responsibility of this station may rest upon me ! that grace 
may be given me faithfully to discharge its difficult duties ! 

November 5. — What a great, what a blessed thing, to be a Chris- 
tian indeed ! Surely, after evidence of having attained this glorious 
character I do pant and strive. I would rather be a Christian than 
the monarch of the world. That blessed name embraces and sup- 
poses principles more elevated, and joys more exalted, than all oth- 
er names combined. Men may talk of honor, of integrity, and of 
moral rectitude ; they may dream of pleasure, and follow the phan- 
tom till they die ; but the Christian alone possesses dispositions cal- 
culated to make us either truly good or truly happy. So long as 
man is supremely bent on his own interests, his morality must be de- 
fective. None but a principle embracing universal good, and loving 
supremely what is supremely excellent, will do for creatures formed 
for happiness; for in loving ourselves supremely we love what is in- 



* A stated female prayer meeting- established in 1741, and continued to the pres- 
ent time. See Memoirs of Mrs. Abigail Waters. 

57 



450 MEMOIRS OF 

finitely unlovely ; and in seeking our own interest as our highest end, 
we virtually take up arms against all that is excellent in the universe. 
Oh for the precious spirit of the Gospel, which makes us willing to 
be nothing ourselves, that God may be all in all. 

TO A SISTER-IN-LAW, AT N. L. 

Boston, .April 22, 1814. 

Have you seen the Memoirs of Mrs. Harriet Newell ? It is a very 
interesting book. Such unreserved and disinterested devotedness 
to the cause of Christ, in so young a person, appears very extraor- 
dinary in these times of religious indifference and sloth. There was 
an elevation and spirituality in her character, seldom met with at the 
present day. No one can help admiring her excellence. Christians 
will be humbled by its contemplation, and stimulated to greater ac- 
tivity in the service of Christ. 

June 19. — My friends are very desirous that I should take a jour- 
ney into Connecticut for my health, under the protection of an ac- 
quaintance who is going on in an empty carriage. The prospect of 
leaving my children is distressing. Dear little creatures ! they cling 
to me with the utmost tenderness. I sometimes feel it to be myste- 
rious that 1 should be, to such an extent, disqualified, by the fee- 
ble state of my health, to do my duty to them, when those duties 
are so important. But I do not complain, for it is God who orders 
it thus. If he were to deal with me according to my deserts, I 
should be swept away with the besom of destruction. I long to 
have no will of my own ; to live as an humble child at the feet of 
Jesus. God is wise, and righteous and good. I commit my way 
unto him. 

July 4. At Killingworth, Conn. — O God, my soul is bowed down 
to the dust under this burden of sin ; a grievous load, too heavy to 
be borne ! Oh, who shall deliver me from the body of this death ? 
Thou blessed Jesus, who art able to bruise sin and Satan under my 
feet, I fly to thee ! I humbly implore thy aid, to strengthen me to 
perform and keep this resolution which I this day make. I solemn- 
ly resolve to endeavor, in the strength of the Lord, to be more 
watchful over myself, to maintain a constant sense of the divine pres- 
ence, to take time to meditate, and think how Jesus would have act- 
ed in my situation, before I act, that I may not rashly say or do those 
things which, afterwards, I could weep the bitterest tears to recal. 
Blessed Redeemer, do thou assist me ; or rather, do thou work by 
me and for me, or I shall be swallowed up in the mighty flood of cor- 
ruption which threatens to overwhelm me. Help, Lord ! or I must 
perish ! 

20. — I am in great distress. My dear father is apparently on the 
brink of the grave, with a dreadful fever. My hand trembles so I 
can scarcely write. It seems as if my feeble frame could not sup- 
port me through the trial. Dearest of earthly friends, husband and 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 451 

children excepted ! Were it not for the consolation of knowing that 
God reigns, what should I do ? Heaven spare him ! Heaven prepare 
us, and especially my dear mother, for what is before us ! Heaven 
support me, or 1 shall not bear the trial which God seems about to 
send ! 

22. — The conflict is over. My dear father, who loved me as 
himself, is gone, never to return ! I may say, with the Apostle, I am 
"troubled, but not forsaken ; cast down, but not destroyed." But 
the wound is deep, it can never be healed. Dear man ! I dwell 
too much on the merely earthly circumstances of this afflicting event. 
I ought to look beyond the veil. His sufferings were great ; it pier- 
ces my heart to think of them. But what were they to the glory 
now revealed ? Blessed be God for the satisfactory evidence he gave 
of preparation for the great change, and for the spiritual comfort he 
enjoyed, amid his bodily pains, and in prospect of death ! I would 
bow at the solemn rebuke, and say, Thy will be done ! God of mer- 
cy, support, comfort and sanctify me ! 

Aug. 4. — I (eel, I hope, sincerely desirous that this solemn provi- 
dence may be sanctified. How can I again, lean upon such a bro- 
ken staff as this world ? How can I ever again, think myself secure 
in the possession of any earthly good ? Oh that I might feel here- 
after, that I am indeed living as a probationer for eternity ! Now I 
ought to shake myself from the impure adhesions of this wretched 
world, and be more engaged in the work I was created to do. Now 
it is high time to awake out of sleep. But I am too much like the 
sluggard who is roused by the accusations of conscience, but still 
is too indolent to rise. I am clogged, paralyzed, by " this body of 
death." I cannot excuse my supineness. I can only cry, God be 
merciful to me a sinner ! 1 feel that it is only because Jehovah is 
infinite in mercy, that I am not beyond the reach of hope. I have 
reason to bless his holy name for the supports he vouchsafed me in 
the hour of trial. I think I* had some precious views of his charac- 
ter, and of the rectitude of his government; some earnest desires 
that my sins, my idols, should all be buried in my beloved father's 
grave ; some sense of the evil of sin, on account of which a merciful 
God was compelled in faithfulness to inflict so severe a chastisement 
upon me. But, alas ! how is it with me now ? My dear husband is 
come ; and I find I still lean to the creature, and am wickedly re- 
posing on one who, like myself, is crushed before the moth ; one 
whom God sent to comfort me, a blessing which He kindly lent me, 
but which I, wretched creature ! am disposed to put in the place of 
God ! O how treacherous is my heart ! What a miracle of mercy 
that my heavenly Father spares so perverse a child ! I can only 
bring my soul to the efficacious fountain which grace has opened for 
sin and uncleanness. Here must I lie, for it is my only hope. 

5. — What a changing, dying world ! How does every relic of 
departed joys whisper to my soul, This is not your rest ! On every 



452 MEMOIRS OF 

side I behold memorials of my departed father. They loudly speak 
the vanity of earthly comforts and pursuits, and bid me lay up treas- 
ure in heaven. I hear, and mourn ; but do I hear and profit ? 

For us he languished, and for us he died. 
And shall he languish, shall he die, in vain ? 

September 2. At Boston. — I was quite well when I left Connec- 
ticut, but feel, since my return, much that appears wrong at my 
breast, and an almost constant pain in my side. At times 1 am al- 
most discouraged, and think these complaints will terminate in a 
consumption. 

I had hoped to have been spared to my darling children ; to have 
used my humble exertions to guide their infant minds in the paths of 
truth and holiness ; to have watched over their early associations, 
and directed those propensities which a mother best understands, 
and on the judicious management of which so much of their future 
usefulness and happiness depends. I had hoped to have directed 
their early studies ; to have put into their hands such books as I 
know to be useful, or accompanied with my own observations such 
as I know to be dangerous, if they were greatly inclined to peruse 
them. I had hoped to have gone with them over the instructive 
pages of history, to have drawn their minds from an undue regard 
to riches and worldly endowments, by pointing them to the noble 
and virtuous conduct of statesman and generals taken from the cot- 
tage and the plough. I had hoped to have shewn them, that ambi- 
tion is not always successful, that pride is never productive of hap- 
piness, that outward greatness does not always involve magnanimity. 
And, above all, I had hoped to have shewn them, from the history 
of past ages, that the lusts and passions of men produce wars and 
fightings, turmoil and misery and death ; and to have drawn them 
to behold the difference, manifested in the spirit of the Gospel of 
Christ, from this picture of wretchedness and sin ; and thus to have 
taught them to cultivate the dispositions which that Gospel requires, 
and on which the happiness of individuals and society depends. O 
how many ways may the mother seize, to teach the offspring of 
her love of the way of truth, which no one else can perceive. 

But what if this office of maternal tenderness, dear to my heart 
as life, should be denied me ; have I any complaint to make ? no 
none. Is not God able to take care of my children without me ? 
yes, infinitely able. Let me not then be unreasonably anxious how 
it may be with my poor body. God governs, infinite rectitude is 
on the throne of the universe ; and why should I fear ? if it is 
for his glory that I should live he is able to preserve me ; if it is not 
ought I to desire it? oh that I may ever stand in a waiting posture ; 
not looking upon this world as my home, but desiring that all my will 
should be, that the Lord's will should be done ! 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON, 453 

TO A SISTER-IN-LAW, AT N. L. 

Boston, September 11, 1814. 
We have been forming a Female Bible Society here, upon the 
plan of the one in Philadelphia, and in consequence of letters re- 
ceived from that society. What an honor for us, to be permitted to 
be co-workers with God in spreading that Gospel, which bringeth 
glad tidings of great joy to this miserable world. And those women 
whose whole attention is not necessarily devoted to their families, 
ought to embrace such opportunities of usefulness, with joy. How 
much do our sex owe to the Gospel. And should we not testify our 
thankfulness, by extending its blessings to those who are strangers to 
them? were we faithful to redeem the time, we might all do much 
more than we do for the promotion of the kingdom of Christ. And 
is not the object worthy of such an effort ? 

TO A FRIEND AT A. 

Boston, January 3, 1815. 

Do you find as much leisure for public charities, as you used to 
before your marriage ? young ladies should consider the talent which 
is intrusted to them of time, disencumbered of domestic cares, as a 
precious deposit, and devote it faithfully to the service of Christ. 
They may not always have so much influence (though it is far from 
being always so) as married ladies, but they have more time and op- 
portunity for action, in the various fields of christian benevolence which 
it is proper for females to cultivate ; they can do more for the the pro- 
motion of the various charities of the present day. Yet our situ- 
ation, my dear friend, is not without opportunities for doing good. A 
married lady can exert a greater influence in her own family than 
any where else ; she may be more useful there than she could be any 
where else. It is indeed in a silent unobserved way ; but not on that 
account, the less acceptable to God, or the less beneficial to the 
world. Besides, industrious women may redeem much time from 
their families for more public duties. But in saying what might be 
done, 1 condemn myself. 

January 5. How difficult, how hopeless is the task of pleasing 
every body ! a fortnight since a lady said to me, with a tone and 
manner which gave peculiar emphasis to the words, " how is it pos- 
sible you can go out so much, visit your people so frequently, and be 
engaged in so many charitable societies, without neglecting your 
family?" this week a different imputation has been attached to my 
conduct. I am censured for doing so little in a public way, and con- 
fining myself so much to my family. 1 am accused of want of inte- 
rest in public charities, because I give to them so little of my time 
and attention. Such different opinions ate formed of the same con- 
duct ! but the voice of wisdom bids me, cease from man whose 
breath is in his nostrils, and study to approve myself to God. As to 



454 MEMOIRS OF 

rny conduct, I am very sensible that I do little good in the world, in 
comparison with what I might do. But whether I could, with propri- 
ety, devote more time to the active duties of public charities, I have 
serious doubts. More of the charity of prayer, to Him who can 
effectually ameliorate the calamities of the world by subduing its cor- 
ruptions, I might, I ought, to bestow. Alas ! here how I fall short! 
but my opinion is, that her^own family has the first claim to the atten- 
tion and active exertions of a married lady. So much time as can 
be redeemed, (and she should feel it her duty to redeem as much as 
possible,) from the ordering of domestic affairs, the care and culture 
of children, the duties of personal religion the improvement of her 
own mind, and the perusal of works from which assistance may be 
derived in the all important business of education, may be, and much 
of it ought to be devoted to the duties of public charity.* 

TO A FRIEND AT A. 

Boston, December 20, 1816. 
You inquired, what is my method with my children at prayers, 
&c. I am ashamed that you should ask advice of me, who need 
counsel so much myself. But if I can suggest to you any new 
thoughts, I shall be very glad ; and expect the same friendly office 
irom you in return. I begin to have my children in the room at 
prayers, within the month after their birth : and they always continue 
to be present, unless they are sick, or are excluded the privilege as 
a punishment for having been very naughty. It is difficult, when 
they are quite young, to keep them perfectly still. But the habit 
of thinking they are too young to be present at family devotions, is 
a bad one. And besides, if they do not come in, some one is 
obliged to remain out with them, and is thus deprived of a precious 
privilege and an important means of grace. After they get to be 
two years old, and are able to understand the meaning of your con- 
duct, if they play, or in any other way make a disturbance, they 
may be taken out, and compelled to remain by themselves till the 
service is over ; which will generally be felt by them to be so great 
a punishment, that they will not soon commit a similar offence. I 
would not do this, however, on every slight deviation from perfect 
order, as children cannot be expected to conduct like men. 



* It may be well to state in this place, that, at the time of her death, Mrs. Hunt- 
ington, was a life member of the Female Orphan Asylum, and of the Fragment So- 
ciety, a life member, and Vice President of the Graham Society : a life member, 
and a director of the Corban Society, and of the Female Society of Boston and vi- 
cinity for promoting Christianity among the Jews.; a life member, and the corres- 
ponding Secretary, and one of the visiting and distributing committee, of the Female 
Bible Society of Boston and vicinity ; an annual subscriber, to the Widows Society, 
and to the Boston Female Education Society ; an annual subscriber to, and the Vice 
President of the Old South Charity School Society ; an annual subscriber to, and a 
Director of the Boston Female Tract Society : and a member of the Boston Mater- 
nal Association. 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON, 455 

As to government, I have always made it a rule never to give a 
child what it is passionately earnest to have, however proper the 
object may be in itself; because, otherwise, an association would 
immediately be formed in the mind between importunity and success. 
Were a child always told, when he cries for a thing, ' You shall have 
it when you shew a proper temper,' it would soon learn him to be 
reasonable. I think it the destruction of government to be capricious, 
to refuse one day, what in circumstances not seen by the child to be 
different, is granted in another ; to let fretting and teazing carry a 
point at one time, when at another, they would bring punishment. 
Children very soon see whether we are consistent; and little deviations 
from an established rule, afford great encouragement for the next 
time. These little deviations do great mischief, and are often slid- 
den into very imperceptibly by the parent, though the child is quick- 
sighted enough to observe them. 

One thing, my dear friend, I think of the greatest importance, 
and that is, that children be made always to mind, and consider the 
parent's word as their law. Giving up once after a command has 
passed, may lay the foundation, and lead to insubordination as trouble- 
some as unconquerable. For this reason, absolute commands should 
be as few as possible. I also think it dangerous to play with children 
in the way of command, saying do this or that, when you do not 
mean that the thing must be done. It weakens parental authoity. 
I never like, to tell very small children to kiss strangers, as they often 
feel a degree of backwardness very difficult to overcome ; and if 
they refuse, it is necessary to pass it over without compelling obedi- 
ence, which should not be, or to have a combat with them before 
the company, which hardens them to reproof. It is better to say, if 
a stranger offers to kiss them and they refuse, and it is thought best to 
say any thing, ' Your kisses are of no great consequence, they may 
be dispensed with I dare say.' This leads the child to think he is 
not of so much importance, as he might otherwise be led to suppose. 

It is also very necessary to good government that punishments 
should be proportioned to offences. If we make no distinctions be- 
tween intentional and complicated offences, and careless inadvert- 
ences, the child, by frequent recurrence of these latter faults and the 
sharp rebukes they bring upon him, will become so accustomed to 
severe reproof that he will not mind it. Tenderness of heart is the 
most powerful human engine of parental government; and when 
this is lost, it seems to me all is lost, unless the grace of God interpo- 
ses. The inevitable consequence of frequent reproof is a heart blunted 
in its sensibilities, and unmoved by the parent's displeasure. Of 
course, all temptations should, as much as possible, be put out of the 
way of children. Many little things should not be observed, which 
if you vvere conscious the child knew you had observed, ought to be 
reproved. A harsh and angry tone should never be used, unless a 
gentle one has previously failed. And I believe, where the authority 



456 MEMOIRS OF 

of the parent is early established by the mild and gentle means, to 
some of which I have alluded, severe measures need be resorted 
to very seldom. 

February 26, 1817.- — I never felt as if I had more cause for grati- 
tude, than now; every trial is so mercifully tempered. I enjoy the 
exhibitions of reason in my other children a thousand times more 
on account of dear Elizabeth's situation. God is very gracious to 
me, even in respect to her. She seems to suffer but little, and is 
a sweet, quiet child. This heart of stone, this flinty, stubborn heart, 
which can requite love so great with ingratitude, is, I think, my great- 
est trouble. I shall begin, the sixth of next month which will be 
Elizabeth's birth day, to observe a quarterly fast on her account. 

March 15. — Heaven looks very sweet. But I am sometimes led 
to fear, that such a vile creature, so little inclined to improve under 
the culture of the Gospel, can never enter it. Where the christian 
religion a delusion, it would be the most blessed delusion that ever 
smiled on the heart of man. But it is not, it cannot be, a delusion. 
Oh no : blessed be God ! there is an inheritance, incorruptible, unde- 
nted, and that fadeth not away, reserving in heaven for those who 
obey the calls of his word ; and their afflictions, however severe, 
shall all be made to work for them a far more exceeding and eter- 
nal weight of glory. 

TO A FRIEND IN BOSTON. 

Saratoga Springs, June 20, 1817. 

We have been brought thus far on our journey in safety. My 
health is good, and Mr. Huntington's evidently improving. We shall 
continue here a few days, and then set out for the Falls. 

In the society of such a place as this, a Christian, while he finds 
much ihat is pleasant, sees many things that give him pain. To hear 
one complaining of sorrows, for which, we feel, there is a balm which 
he knows not of, and another regretting past disappointments, and 
vainly promising himself ample remuneration in future gratifications, 
when we know there is a hope sure and stedfast of which he is 
ignorant, without being able to speak of either, is a revolting to the 
spirit of philanthropy as well as of Christianity. He is the wise man 
who is able to seize the " time to speak," and employ it properly. 
And it certainly argues a criminal indifference to the interests of our 
fellow creatures, or a deplorable fear of man, to be habitually and 
totally silent on those subjects, in such circumstaces. 

TO ANOTHER FRIEND IN BOSTON. 

Auburn, June 28. 1817. 
We are surprised to find, how universally this State is peopled, 
upon this road. It is quite amusing to think, how little I was pre- 
pared to find a country, thirty years ago a wilderness, more generally 
settled than some parts of our own State, for instance, between Brook- 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 457 

field and Northampton. Thus far we have, every mile, seen cul- 
tivated lands, fine orchards, and good houses. Many of the buildings 
are constructed with a neat and simple elegance, which is very grati- 
fying to the traveller. We have been much pleased with some of 
the houses of worship. The land appears, generally, to be very fer- 
tile, and seems to promise a liberal return for the labors of the 
husbandman. 

We passed the settlement of the Oneida Indians yesterday. You 
recollect that Mr. Kirkland was formerly Missionary among them. 
Their present minister is a Mr. Williams, who I hear, is a very wor- 
thy man. It is curious to see, how scrupulously they adhere to their 
ancient dress and customs, though in the midst of a civilized people. 

Auburn is quite a pretty village, something city-like in its appear- 
ance. Mr. Huntington has gone to call on the Presbyterian minister, 
while I am writing. We are told there is a revival in his congrega- 
tion, and that his house is filled, on the sabbath, with anxiously 
attentive hearers. As to-morrow will be the sabbath, we expect to 
hear him preach, and see his congregation. 

Canandaigua, July 2. — I intended to have finished my letter 
before, but could not. We were much pleased with the appearance 
of the congregation with which we worshipped, at Auburn, on the 
sabbath. There is evidently a work of the Spirit among them. 
Between forty and fifty have obtained a hope, since the commence- 
ment of the revival. The subjects of the work are, as usually the 
case, mostly young people. The minister seems to be much engaged. 
It was truly delightful to spend a sabbath in such circumstances. 

The roads have been so bad the last few days, that I feel quite 
fatigued, but hope I shall hold out to the end of our journey. 

TO ANOTHER FRIEND IN BOSTON. 

Herkimer, July 18, 1817. 

Our journey has been a very pleasant one. We have been highly 
gratified with the appearance of things, in many parts of this State, 
in a religious point of view. We did not expect to see flourishing 
churches of two and three hundred members, and to behold the 
people flocking in crowds to the sanctuary, three times on the sabbath 
in this wilderness, as we had considered it. In many places religion 
is almost the only topic of conversation. I was particularly interested 
in our visit at Geneva, a most beautifully situated village, sixteen 
miles this side of Canandaigua. The good people there, seemed to 
think religion was in a dull and languid state among them. But I 
thought I found there a great deal of the life and soul of it. Some 
of the ladies will I hope, follow our example, and form a Maternal 
Association. At Buffalo there is more than a usual attention to 
religion. 

Buffalo is a delightfully situated place, on the bay, or whatever 
else it is called, where the waters of lake Erie enter the Niagara 

58 



458 MEMOIRS OP 

river. It is really very pleasant to see such a city-like place, grown 
up, as if by enchantment, on the extremity of our western frontier. 
There is but one house, a log one, standing now, which survived 
the fire two years ago. The whole village besides was consumed. 
The people are still rather depressed by their late calamities, and 
have been somewhat straitened in building a house for public wor- 
ship. They hope to receive some remuneration for their losses from 
the government. — Canandaigua is an elegant village ; there is scarcely 
a poor house in the place. 

TO HER MOTHER, AT KILLINGWORTH, CONN. 

Boston, August 8, 1817. 
We arrived at home last night, and had the great comfort of find- 
ing our dear little ones in usual health ; which is a peculiar mercy, 
for I am told, it is quite sickly in town. I hope this will find you 
more comfortable than you were when I left Killingworth.* Oh my 
dear mother, I did not expect to see you so much altered and en- 
feebled. But I hope that God is dealing with you in covenant love; 
and if so, all your trials will be the means of fitting you more per- 
fectly for the kingdom of heaven. It is a great thing to grow better 
by suffering. God sends judgments upon his children, to wean them 
from the world and from sin, and to make them more like himself. 
I hope you will find that God is an unfailing refuge in every time of trial. 
My dear mother, do not be discouraged, but carry all your sorrows 
to Him by whose power all things are controlled. He will not suf- 
fer you to be tried above what he will enable you to bear. Trust 
in the Lord Jehovah, with whom is everlasting strength. Those that 
wait on him, shall renew their strength, they shall never faint. Though 
he may see that his children need the rod, and, if I may use the ex- 
pression in reference to him, be constrained, in faithfulness, to visit 
them with it ; yet blessed be his name, to them, he always tempers 
the stroke with mercy. 

Mrs. Huntington was duly sensible of the high responsibilities of 
her station, as wife of the pastor of a large church, and was un- 
commonly successful in the discharge of her important duties. She 
secured the love of the people, in an eminent degree ; and by her 
usefulness in various institutions, in which she was called to take a 
part, has left a name that will not soon fade from the memory of those 
who knew her value. 

But Mrs. Huntington was now called upon by the greatest earthly 
bereavement with which she could be afflicted, to leave the relation in 
which she stood to them, though she ever after held her place in their 
affections and respect. In the autumn of 1819, her husband, re- 



* Her mother was at, this time, afflicted with great bodily weakness, and with 
unusual spiritual darkness. From theflatter, she was soon mercifully delivered, and 
continued to enjoy peace of mind till the close of life. 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 459 

turning from a journey to the north which he had taken for his health, 
weakened by fatigue, was taken sick on the way at Groton, Mass., 
where he died on Saturday, Sept. 11, 1819. 

On the succeeding Monday the mortal remains were interred in 
in Boston, with appropriate exercises, and great solemnity. A ser- 
mon was delivered on the occasion, by the Rev. Mr. Dwight,* in 
the Old South Church; where an immense concourse was assembled, 
to express their interest in the solemn event, and to pay a public 
tribute to distinguished worth. The clergy of Boston and the vicin- 
ity, the members of the church and congregation of which the de- 
ceased had been pastor, and a multitude of other acquaintances and 
friends, united with the bereaved family and relations in deploring 
their common loss, while they praised God for the bright example 
of Christian virtue which they had witnessed. The spacious house 
of worship where the last sad offices were performed, was so crowded, 
that many hundreds tried in vain to obtain admittance. The tokens 
of unaffected mourning were so numerous, and so impressive, that it 
could not be doubted in what high and affectionate estimation the 
character of the departed minister and friend, was held. 

In relation to the state of Mrs. Huntington's mind, under this heavy 
trial, an intimate friend, who was constantly with her, during the first 
week after her husband's death, observes, in a letter to the compiler, 
written March 1, 1824, "There was, in her whole deportment, the 
most convincing and pleasing evidence of humble, child-like sub- 
mission to the divine will. Most of her conversation with me at that 
time, worthy of being recorded as I felt it to be, I regret that I am 
compelled to say, has escaped my memory. I will, however, add a 
few particulars, in the unconnected manner in which they occur to 
my recollection. 

" I remember asking her, on the day succeeding the death of Mr. 
Huntington, if it required an effort to be submissive. She answered, 
c I am enabled to bless God, that I have not had to contend with an 
unbelieving thought. I would rather have endured the agony of sep- 
aration, than that my dear husband should have borne it. I can truly 
say, ' Tis the survivor dies.' ' 

" On another occasion she said to me, "The bitterness of my grief 
can be known only to God and my own soul. But I think I can say, 
1 Though he slay me, yet will T trust in him,' and can lay hold on 
the hand that smites, for support. But, oh the loneliness of widow- 
hood ! I am as Peter, sinking in deep waters.' 

"The resignation and calmness she was enabled to feel, she 
ascribed * to the mercy of God, in answer to the prayers of his dear 
people,' many of whom, she knew, constantly remembered her in 
their supplications." 



Then pastor of the Park Street Church, in Boston. 



460 MEMOIRS OF 

But the most interesting and satisfactory details, in relation to this 
important period of her life, are found in her journal, from which the 
following passage is taken. 

" I have long intended, for the sake of my children, to describe 
some of the exercises of my mind at the time of my blessed hus- 
band's sickness and death ; but have not before felt able to do so. 

" The last part of my stay at Bridgewater, I experienced at times, 
a peculiar flagging of my animal spirits, and a sense of horror which 
can never be described. There was no particular cause for this that 
I am aware of. On Saturday, August 28, 1819, I heard that Mr. 
Huntington had stopped at Groton, fatigued ; and was not much 
alarmed, supposing that he did not come to Boston so late in the 
week, to avoid the labor of preaching immediately after so long and 
fatiguing a journey ; and, overruled by the solicitations of my friends, 
and the consideration of the yellow fever being in Boston, I remain- 
ed at Bridgewater until Wednesday. On Tuesday I sat watching at 
my window, to see the well known chaise, the sound of which, on 
similar occasions, had always delighted me. Toward evening I ex- 
pected the stage, and possibly, my husband in it. The stage appear- 
ed. Instead of my husband, the driver threw me out a letter. It 
struck a pang to my heart. When I had opened it, through the mis- 
taken kindness of my friends, I was still informed that " he was fa- 
tigued." Distracted with apprehension and suspense, I waited for 
morning ; and, at nine o'clock, left Bridgewater in the stage, with a 
heart tortured with apprehensions, alas ! soon and certainly realized. 
During my ride home, this passage of Scripture was upon my mind, 
and comforted me, " All things work together for good to them that 
love God." I was feeble, but wished to go to Groton that night. 

Mr. assured me, however, that Mr. Huntington was not very 

sick. He had seen him on Monday. Miss was with me. 

Mr. 's assurance of my precious husband's being only slightly 

feverish, had, in a great measure, lulled my fears. 

" On Thursday morning I set out, in a chaise, accompanied by a 
friend for Groton. During the ride, the first answer of the Assem- 
bly's Catechism was strongly impressed upon my mind, "Man's chief 
end is to glorify God and enjoy him forever." I felt that, for the 
last twelve years I had, in a great degree, misunderstood the great 
object for which I was made ; that, if not my chief, a very high end 
with me had been, to be happy in my husband, and make him happy 
in me. I felt that the highest happiness of a rational mind ought to 
arise, from answering the purpose for which God made it; and there- 
fore that I ought to be happy in glorifying God, not in enjoying 
myself. 

" We reached the public house in Groton. I inquired if they 
knew how Mr. Huntington of Boston was. The answer was, "Very 
sick indeed ; the doctor has been there all day ; he is a very sick man." 
My limbs would scarcely support rne to the house. Upon our arri- 



MBS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 461 

val there, we went into the parlor alone. The first object that met 
my eye, was the hat of the blessed sufferer above stairs. It struck 
me with fearfulness and trembling, as the herald of death. I asked 
for the physician ; and in reply to my agonized interrogation, " Is 
there no hope ?" he said, " Mr. Huntington is very sick. I should 
have some hope, were it not that all fevers this summer have been 
unusually fatal." — The overwhelming agonies of that moment can 
never be described. The language of my heart was, { Oh that God 
would redeem his life with mine !' The doctor told me I must com- 
pose myself, as to see me agitated might destroy the object of my 
solicitude. 

" Mr. Huntington was apprised, by the physician, of my arrival. 
There was an increase of ten to the number of his pulse upon this 
intelligence. When I entered the room in which he lay, he was 
gasping for breath ; but his countenance glowed with an expression 
of tenderness I shall never forget, as he threw open his arms, ex- 
claiming, " My dear wife !" and clasped me, for some moments, to 
his bosom. I said, with perfect composure, "My blessed husband, 
I have come at last." He replied, " Yes, and it is in infinite mercy 
to me." I told him, all I regretted was, that I could not get to him 
sooner. He said, with a tender consideration for my health, which 
he always valued more than his own, " I am glad you could not ; in 
your present circumstances, it might have been too much for you." 

" From that time, owing to the insidious nature of his disease, I had 
considerable hope. I had seen him. I was with him. He was as 
sensible of my love, and of my attentions, as ever ; and I could not 
realize the stroke which was impending. Never shall I remember, 
without gratitude, the goodness of God in giving me that last week 
of sweet, though sorrowful, intercourse with my beloved husband. 

" The days and nights of solicitude drew near a fatal close. I 
could not think of his death. At that prospect, nature revolted. I 
felt as if it would be comparatively easy to die for him. But the 
day before his death, when all spoke encouragement, I felt that we 
must part. In the bitterness of my soul, I went into the garret. It 
was the only place I could have without interruption. Never shall I 
forget that hour. Whether in the body or out, I could scarcely tell. 
I drew near to God. Such a view of the reality and nearness of 
eternal things, I had never had. It seemed as if I were somewhere 
with God. I cast my eye back on this life, it seemed a speck. I 
felt that God was my God, and my husband's God ; that this was 
enough ; that it was a mere point of difference, whether he should 
go to heaven first or I, seeing we should both go so soon. My mind 
was filled with satisfaction with the government of God. " Be ye 
followers of them who, through faith and patience, inherit the prom- 
ises," seemed to be the exhortation given me upon coming back to 
this world. — I do not mean that there were any bodily or sensible 
appearances. But 1 seemed carried away in spirit. I pleaded for 



462 MEMOIRS OF 

myself and children, travelling through this distant country. It seem- 
ed as if I gave them, myself, and my husband, up, entirely. And it 
was made sure to me, that God would do what was best for us. 

" From that time, though nature would have her struggles, I felt 
that God had an infinite right to do what he pleased with his own ; 
that he loved my husband better than I did ; that if He saw him 
ripe for his rest, I had no objections to make. All the night he was 
exercised with expiring sufferings, and God was pouring into my soul 
one truth and promise of the gospel after another. I felt it sweet for 
him to govern. There was a solemn tranquillity filled the chamber 
of death. It was an hour of extremity to one whom Jesus loved. I 
felt that He was there, that angels were there, that every agony was 
sweetened and mitigated by One, in whose sight the death of his 
saints is precious. I felt as if I had gone with the departing spirit to 
the very utmost boundary of this land of mortals, and as if it would 
be easier for me to drop the body which confined my soul in its ap- 
proach toward heaven, than retrace all the way I had gone. When 
the intelligence was brought me that the conflict was over, it was 
good news, I kissed the clay, as pleasantly as I ever did when it was 
animated by the now departed spirit. I was glad he had got safely 
home, and that all the steps of his departure were so gently ordered. 

" It would be in vain for me to attempt a description of my feelings 
the next morning. I had never seen such a sun rise before. It be- 
held me alone. Were I the only created being in the universe, I 
could not, perhaps, have felt very differently. I went into the cham- 
ber in which he died. There, on the pillow, was the print of his 
head. The bed of death was just as when it resigned forever, the 
body of him who was all the world to me. His portmanteau, comb, 
brush, &lc. lay in sight. God wonderfully supported me. 

" But why do I dwell on a description which, even now, is almost 
too much for me ? How did God sustain a creature who was weak- 
ness itself! How mercifully he has carried me through all my suc- 
cessive trials ! Truly it was the Lord's doing ; and it is marvellous 
in my eyes. 

" And now ; O, how is it now ! Not so much comfort ; laboring 
with sin; afraid almost to live in this wicked world; dreading a thou- 
sand evils in my present lonely state. But all this is wrong. God 
hath said, "Who shall harm you, if ye be followers of that which is 
good ?" How kindly my beloved husband used to remind me of this 
text." 

The few remaining years of Mrs. Huntington's pilgrimage were 
years of deep sorrow, but not of despair. The wound made by 
this blow of Providence never closed, but her sorrow was not that of 
those who have no hope. The consolations of that religion which 
had comforted her under former trials were with her still, and though 
she lamented she did not repine. In August, 1821, she was called 
upon to give up to God her youngest child, a little boy born less than 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 463 

three months after the death of his father. And in a fortnight after 
the death of her son, her youngest daughter was taken away. Her 
own description will give the best idea of her affliction. 

TO A SISTER IN LAW AT N. L. 

Boston, November 6, 1821. 

You wish to be informed more particularly of the circumstances 
of my sweet Joshua's death. When I left him on Saturday he ap- 
peared as well as usual. The heat of the weather had made him 
rather thin and pale ; but he was not otherwise unwell. He contin- 
ued well until Wednesday morning, when he was seized with a diar- 
rhea. This continued, sometimes apparently abating, till Friday 
morning; when it became apparent that his disease was the dysen- 
tery. The Doctor came to see him, and advised his removal to 
Mr. W.'s, where he could have all my friends near him. I think he 
must have fallen away greatly on Friday night, as the doctor did not 
speak of him as in a dangerous state, at the time of the visit just al- 
luded to. On Saturday morning, the little sufferer was accordingly 
removed, forever removed. After he arrived at Mr. W.'s, he was 
by the direction of the physician, put in a warm bath. But no one 
seemed to be aware of his real situation. Early on Saturday morn- 
ing, I was sent for, and arrived at about half past one o'clock in the 
afternoon. Light of heart, I sprang out of the carriage to inquire 
for my child ; for I had been told that he was not very sick, and his 
being at Mr. W.'s, confirmed me in the opinion. Mrs. W. told me 
that he was now very sick. Still, however my infatuation prevailed. 
I thought he could not be very sick, and be there. Judge then of 
my agony, when I entered the chamber, and saw my child, the dar- 
ling of my soul, not as I left him, but engaged in his last conflict. I 
instantly recognized the hand of death, for I had seen it too often to 
be mistaken. Never shall I forget that look. Changed he was, but 
beautiful. There was a composed look of meek and patient suffer- 
ing; he looked, as if he had quieted himself to die. His little eyes 
were already fixed. He did not know me. Oh, what a moment! 
about an hour and a half after this, the last struggle commenced. I 
took him in my arms ; and in a few minutes, he breathed his last 
sigh as sweetly as ever a spirit disencumbered itself of its earthly 
habitation ; and before I knew it he was in heaven. 

The greatest shock was the first. But my mind was unsettled all 
that, and the next day. I hardly knew where, or what I was. So 
little sensible had I been, how this darling babe had entwined himself 
about every fibre of my heart. On Monday, however, I was re- 
lieved and comforted. But that was one of the most solemn weeks 
of my life. The strong and intense excitements of it were almost 
too much for my feeble frame. So that when Elizabeth was taken 
sick, which was on the next Sabbath, I sunk at once. She was soon 
released from all her sorrows. And I live to tell the tale — who 



464 MEMOIRS OF 

knows how much he is capable of enduring ? I have since spent a 
few weeks at Andover, and am now quite well. 

Sister Mary's health is exceedingly delicate. Her situation is in my 
opinion, very critical. With unwearied care, she may live some 
years ; or she may soon be taken from us. 

Our family, my beloved sister, seems to be dissolving. God smote 
the head when he called your and my dear father, (for I loved him as 
a father :) and the shock seemed to extend itself to the branches, 
one after another of which has, since that time, withered and fallen. 
But how sweet, to be permitted to believe, that, of all the dear num- 
ber removed, not one is lost ? all safe, safe forever. God grant that 
we may meet them where there is no more death. 

During the last two years of her life Mrs. Huntington was troub- 
bled with an affection of the lungs from which she never recovered, 
and which preyed upon her health almost continually. She lived in 
constant preparation for death, and loved life more for the sake of her 
surviving children than for her own. In them all her earthly anxieties 
centered, and for them she lived, till the summer of 1823, when in 
consequence of her taking cold on Saturday, July 5th, her cough be- 
came much worse and her disease assumed a more painful and 
alarming character. 

The change, and her feelings in relation to it, are thus described 
by herself in a postscript to a letter commenced June 29th. " Since 
I wrote the above, my dear Mrs. S., my health has changed a good 
deal. You recollect my troublesome cough. Day before yester- 
day, I spit a little blood, and every day since I have raised a little. 
A blister and a slight fever have reduced my strength, so that I feel 
that I am a frail, dying creature. 

Dr. is very anxious to get me from Boston. He hopes a 

change of air will benefit me. I hope so too, and think of Connecti- 
cut, if I can get there. But, Oh, how lonely I feel ! Whom shall 
I look to ? But hush every word that looks like complaining. The 
Lord has written me, widow and desolate ; and he has done well. 
Oh, for a heart to bless him now, to bless him forever ! I need strong 
faith. I cannot write much. You must all love and pray for me. 
But we all want love to, and confidence in the blessed God, a thou- 
sand times more than any thing else." 

A second postscript to the same letter, written by another hand, 
and dated " Wednesday evening, July 9th," is as follows, " Dear 
Madam. Thus far our beloved friend had written to you. She is 
now unable to finish ; and has requested me to do it, and to inform 
you of the particulars of her case. It is painful indeed to know it, 
but you would consider it cruel to keep you in ignorance of it. Last 
evening, and but a short time after she had written the above, she 
was taken with raising blood to a degree which alarmed us very 
much. The physician took nearly a pint of blood from the arm? 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 465 

and she was considerably relieved from the irritation on the lungs, 
Another blister has also been applied, and has drawn very well. 
The doctor thinks there is no immediate danger, and hopes she will 
recover. He wishes her to keep entirely quiet, and not to speak a 
word. She is very much exhausted, and the weather to-day has 
been oppressively warm. We hope that the means which are using, 
will be blessed of Him in whose hand is the breath of every one, 
and that this precious woman may long be continued to her children, 
her friends, the church, and the world. Many fervent prayers are 
ascending for her ; and she will not be forgotten by you and her oth- 
er dear friends in Connecticut. She is in a very quiet and happy 
frame of mind, sweetly feeling that she is in the hands of her cove- 
nant God." 

These hopes in regard to her health were not realized. Every 
effort which skill and kindness could make, was made, for the remo- 
val of her complaint. Prayer was continually offered, by numerous 
and ardently attached Christian friends, for her restoration. But 
she continued gradually to decline. 

In the latter part of August, she was removed to the house of a 
friend in the country, about. ten miles from Boston, with the hope 
that a change of air and scene might be beneficial. And, for a time, 
she was more comfortable than while in the city ; but the progress 
of her disease was not interrupted. While here, she wrote two or 
three short notes to her children, none of whom were with her. The 
following extracts are from one to her son at Andover. 

"September 19, 1823. 

"My beloved child. Though I am very feeble, I feel a great de* 
sire to write you a few lines. My love and anxiety for you, are great- 
er than any but a parent can know ; and yet I tell you your faults. 
I want you to settle this truth in your mind for life, my J., that he 
is your best friend who takes the most pains to correct your errors. 
Beware of the person who tries to make you think well of yourself, 
especially when your own conscience is not quite satisfied. 

20. — Always love your sisters. Consider yourself as, in a sense, 
their protector and guardian. Write to them often : pray for them. 
You are likely to be left alone in a strange world. So have I been ; 
and 

Thus far the Lord hath led me on, 

so that I have never lacked any good thing. The way has been bois- 
terous sometimes, 

Cut Judah's Lion guards the way. 
And guides the travellers home. 

Make this friend yours. — But 1 must close. Love Mr. C, always 
love him. He is one of your best friends ; and faithful friends are 
not very plenty in this treacherous world, my J. But, oh 1 that I 

59 



466 



MEMOIRS OF 



could see you securing the friendship of your God. Remember, hh 
vows are upon you, and you cannot, must not, go back. Farewell,, 
beloved child. The Lord be with you continually." 

About the close of the month of September, she desired the phy- 
sician then attending her to inform her, definitely and frankly, wheth- 
er there was, in his opinion, any prospect of her recovery. His an- 
swer was in the negative. She received it, with some feeling, but 
with submission, and thanked him for his kindness in being so ex- 
plicit. 

On the third of October, she was removed again to her residence 
in Boston ; and proceeded immediately, to set her house in order, 
in preparation for death. She had an interview with the gentleman 
who has since, in compliance with the request then made, been ap- 
pointed guardian to her children. She saw, or wrote to, the friends 
who have kindly undertaken the charge of their education. The fol- 
lowing is an extract from one of her letters on this subject, dated 
October 20, 1823. " My dear M. How I have longed to see you. 
Your mother said you would be here, and I have expected it with 
great anxiety. She said you would take S. Will you be her moth- 
er ? Will your husband be her father. ? Will you watch over this 
dear child ? — Yes, you will, and I shall die easy on this point. God 
helps me to trust the promise, " Leave thy fatherless children, I will 
preserve them." 

" My strength decays. I have scarcely any appetite. But my 
Savior lays under me his everlasting arm ; and I trust that all is well, 
and will be well forever. Pray that I may have his presence, and 
that I may glorify him to the end. Farewell, beloved friend." 

During her illness, her pastor had frequent interviews with her. 
She at one time, about a fortnight after the first bleeding from her 
lungs, had some doubts and fears in regard to the genuineness of her 
religious experience. Her apprehension was, that she might never 
have been truly humbled for sin. But the feelings which this ap- 
prehension excited, were of such a character as to furnish to others, 
the most satisfactory evidence of her piety ; as they clearly evinc- 
ed a deep and practical conviction, that, without the light of God's 
countenance, there can be no real happiness. The cloud was, how- 
ever, soon dissipated ; and, from that time till her death, she was fa- 
vored with uniform peace of mind. 

Her pastor, usually when other engagements did not prevent, made 
brief minutes, upon returning home from visiting her, of the conver- 
sation during the interview. A few of these, as a specimen, will be 
here inserted. 

" Tuesday, October 28, 1823. — Called on Mrs. Huntington about 
half past nine in the morning, found that she had failed considerably 
since my last visit. To an inquiry in relation to the state of her 
mind since Friday, she replied, " I think I have felt more of the 
presence of Christ than I did when I saw you last. I have not had 



MRS. SUSAN HUNTINGTON. 467 

those strong views and joyful feelings, with which I have sometimes 
been favored. My mind is weak, and I cannot direct and fix my 
thoughts as I once could. But I think 1 have fled for refuge to lay 
hold on the hopes set before me in the precious Gospel ; and He, 
who is the foundation of that hope, will never forsake me." Then, 
with a most interesting expression of countenance she said, "I trust 
we shall meet in heaven, and spend an eternity in praising our dear 
Redeemer." It was replied, " we shall, if we give him our hearts, 
and continue faithful to him unto the end." " I feel," she answered 
" that I have been very, very unfaithful. But he is merciful, his 
blood cleanseth from all sin, and 1 trust he has blotted my sins from 
the book of his remembrance. Oh, what should we do without 
Christ?" " As much debtors," it was remarked, " to free grace at 
the end of our course as when we begin it." " More," she replied, 
" far more ; for we sin against greater light and love, after we are 
born again. Yes, it is all of free grace. If it were not what would 
become of me?" It was answered, "you would have perished, 
justly perished ; but now, when you enter heaven, you will stand be- 
fore the angels, a monument of God's justice as well as of his free 
grace, for he is just in justifying those that believe in Jesus." "Yes," 
she replied ; " what a glorious plan ! what a precious Savior I oh, 
that I could love him more ! pray that I may love and glorify him 
forever." 

" On Friday October 31st, at nine o'clock A. M. found her more 
comfortable than on Tuesday last. She said, " my mind has gene- 
rally been in a peaceful frame since I saw you. But I want to rea- 
lize the presence and preciousness of Christ, more distinctly and 
constantly than my great weakness permits me to do." Some re- 
marks were made respecting the provisions of the covenant of Grace 
as adapted to all our weaknesses. " The bible," it was said, " tells 
us that, ; he knoweth our frame, he remembereth that we are dust ;' 
'a bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not 
quench ;' ; we have not an high priest which cannot be touched 
with the feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like 
as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore, come boldly unto the 
throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help 
in time of need.' " She said, " glorious covenant ! precious promises ! 
I have given myself, soul and body, to Him in whom they are all 
yea and amen, and I do not fear. I desire to have him do with me 
as it shall please him." 

" Friday, November 7.- — To the usual inquiry respecting the state 
of her mind, she said, Mrs. Graham accurately describes my feel- 
ings, when she says, " thus far has the Lord brought me through 
the wilderness, bearing, chastising, forgiving, restoring. I am near 
to Jordan's flood. May my blessed high priest, and ark of the cov- 
enant lead on my staggering steps the little further I have to go."* I 

* See Life and Writings of Mrs. Isabella Graham, p. 161, third New York edition. 



468 MEMOIRS, &C. 

have had no rapturous views of the heaven to which I hope I am 
going, no longings to depart. But I have generally been enabled to 
feel a calm submission, and to realize the fullness and the precious- 
ness of the Savior. I desire to feel perfect resignation to the will of 
God, because it is his will. O how sweet, to be willing to be 
just where, and just what God pleases ; to rejoice that the Lord God 
omnipotent reigneth, and worketh all things after the counsel of his 
own will. This, in its perfection, is I think, a principal source of 
the happiness of heaven. Pray that God would enable me to he] 
thus while suffering from weakness and pain, and entering the dark 
valley." 

Frequently, during her sickness, she had expressed to her pastor, 
a desire that he would, if possible, be with her in her last moments. 
On Thursday December 4th,'^ he was informed, about three o'clock 
in the afternoon, that she had failed greatly since morning, and would 
probably survive but a little longer. He immediately repaired to her 
residence and found her sleeping, but very restless and breathing 
with great difficulty. She continued in this state, except that respi- 
ration became constantly more difficult, through the . afternoon and 
evening. About eleven o'clock the difficulty of breathing became 
so great, as to overcome the disposition to slumber. Intelligence, it 
was found, still remained. She was asked " if she knew that she 
was near her end." She answered by a sign in the affirmative. It 
was said, " I hope you feel the presence of the Savior sustaining and 
comforting you." She assented. "Your faith and hope in him are 
unshaken ?" Her reply was in the affirmative. — A few minutes after, 
her sight failed ; and, at twenty minutes past eleven, her spirit enter- 
ed into rest. 

Her end was full of peace, 

Fitting her uniform piety serene, 

'Twas rather the deep humble calm of faith, 

Than her high triumph; and resembled more 

The unnoticed setting of a clear day's sun, 

Than his admired departure in a blaze 

Of glory, bursting from a clouded course. 

From the Memoirs of Mrs. Huntington, by the Rev. B. B. Wisner, D. D., late- 
pastor of the Old South Church in Boston, now Secretary of the American Board of 
Commissioners for Foreign Missions, 



469 



xlIISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT* 



Miss Caroline Elizabeth Smelt, the subject of the following 
narrative, was born in the city of Augusta, in the state of Georgia, 
on the Lord's day morning, December 28th, 1800. Her ancestors, 
so far as is known, were respectable. Her father, Doctor Dennis 
Smelt, was born in Essex county, in the state of Virginia, on the 
23d day of November, 1763. His father, the Rev. John Smelt, 
was a clergyman of the Episcopal church ; he was born in England, 
educated at Oxford, and emigrated to America in early life, where 
he married a lady of Virginia, who gave birth to the Doctor. 

Doctor Smelt was educated at William and Mary College, in his 
native state. In the year 1786 he went to England, for the purpose 
of completing his medical studies; where he remained three years, 
and then returned to his native land. The state of Georgia, at that 
time, offered many attractions to young men of talents and enter- 
prise. Accordingly, the Doctor determined on removing thither, 
and selected Augusta as the place of his future residence, where he 
settled in 1789. Here his medical skill and industrious attention to 
the duties of his profession, soon procured him a large share of pub- 
lic confidence, as well as an extensive and lucrative practice. 

In the year 1806, he was elected, by his fellow citizens, as a mem- 
ber to represent them in the Congress of the United States. After 
acting five years in this capacity, he retired from the service of his 
country, to repose in the bosom of his family. 

In the year 1798 he received in marriage the hand of Miss Mary 
Cooper, an amiable and accomplished young lady of Augusta. 

Miss Caroline was not the first child of her parents. A son, named 
John, was the first pledge of their wedded love. This son afforded 
his parents all that happiness, in prospect, which a promising infant 
could possibly furnish, during thirteen months. It pleased Him who 
"blessed little children," to take this interesting child from his earth- 
ly parents, at that early age, to be with himself. 

About four months after this bereavement, the hearts of these par- 
ents were gladdened by the birth of a daughter ; and this daughter 
was Caroline Elizabeth. From early childhood, she discovered 
strong marks of an intelligent mind, blended with much meekness, 
modesty, and benevolence of disposition. At the age of eighteen 
months, she was uncommonly engaging and interesting. She could, 
even then, repeat many little prayers with such a distinct articulation 
as is not usual at that tender age. When only two years old, she 
could repeat a number of short instructive lessons, which she had 



470 MEMOIRS OF 

committed to memory, and deliver them with such pathos, propriety 
of emphasis, and expression of countenance, as to surprise and grati- 
fy all who heard her. 

In her eighth year, she was called to experience a most afflictive 
dispensation of Divine Providence, in the death of a darling little 
sister, who was three years younger than herself. She was greatly 
grieved, but displayed much resignation to the will of God ; and di- 
rected her sympathy and affectionate condolence, to the consolation 
of her afflicted mother. Mrs. Smelt had enjoyed but feeble health 
for several years, and her mind had been deeply exercised, in seek- 
ing to secure the best interests of her own soul. This bereavement 
laid her low in the valley of humiliation. She was visited by many 
pious friends and ministers of the gospel. When her mother was 
engaged in conversation with them, reading the Scriptures, or other 
religious works, little Caroline would give her whole attention to the 
subject, and she has since told her mother, that from that period she 
dated the first perceptible operations of divine grace upon her heart. 
For, said she, " so clear was my comprehension of the plan of sal- 
vation through a Redeemer, that I understood it as well, and believ- 
ed in it as firmly, at eight years of age, as I do now on my death 
bed." She also observed, " that it had often been a matter of as- 
tonishment to her, even at that early period, that she should have 
had such clear conceptions of a subject which caused so much in- 
vestigation and doubt in the minds of older persons." She was al- 
ways attentive to religious instruction, and at the age just mentioned 
particularly so. Her mother never asked her to retire with her, for 
the purpose of private prayer, without finding her ready and imme- 
diately willing to attend, let her little engagements be what they 
might. She would bow on her little knees, with so much sweet hu- 
mility, and so silently and patiently engage in this solemn duty, as to 
afford her affectionate mother the greatest delight, particularly when 
she could see her, at the close of the duty, wiping the precious tears 
from her infantile cheeks. 

She was early distinguished for her love of truth ; insomuch, that 
she was frequently called upon to decide little disputes in school ; it 
being generally admitted by the contending parties, that Caroline 
Smelt would not tell a falsehood, even to screen herself from cen- 
sure. Her friends have no recollection of her ever having deserved 
a reproof for deviating from strict veracity. She viewed falsehood 
as one of the most degrading and unprofitable vices, and a very high 
offence against Him who knoweth all things. Neither did she coun- 
tenance or practice tale-bearing. So far did she carry this princi- 
ple, as to suffer herself sometimes to be grossly imposed upon, rather 
than make a complaint, lest she might be called a tell-tale. 

To her relations she was affable and companionable, while yet a 
child ; but her extreme diffidence, or timid modesty, prevented her 
from communicating her ideas on any subject, with freedom, except 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT, 471 

to those with whom she was well acquainted. To such she was 
tree and communicative, and her conversation frequently afforded 
them instruction and delight. Her language was pure ; her expres- 
sions select ; and her observations far beyond her years. 

She appeared to attach no importance to herself on account of 
her being an only child ; nor did she infer from this, that she had 
any claim to extraordinary indulgence. On the contrary, she said 
" it humbled her; for it became her duty to strive to be every thing 
to her parents, that they might not grieve too much after those chil- 
dren they had lost." 

When she was twelve years old, she was highly gratified by the 
birth of a little sister. On this occasion her joy was beyond de- 
scription. A certain female neighbor expressed her surprise at see- 
ing Caroline so delighted, as " it might have been expected that she 
would have been disappointed, rather than pleased, that the child 
was not a boy; for now, the little stranger would stand on equal 
ground with herself, and her importance would probably be dimin- 
ished." She replied, she was very sorry that any person should en- 
tertain so contracted an opinion of her heart. She could, with great 
sincerity, declare that she was much happier than she should have 
been if it had been a boy; and gave her reasons at full length, which 
silenced the friend. Some time afterwards she said to her mother, 

" Mamma, do you think our neighbor was in earnest when 

she gave such an opinion ? I do not approve of jests, at any time? 
or on any subject; and I never have taken, nor ever will, if I can 
help it, take such a liberty with any one. I am sure I feel so much 
gratitude to Providence for blessing me with a beautiful little sister, 
that I would be willing that you, even you, should love her a great 
deal better (if that is possible) than you do me." 

She now proved that she did indeed love living babes ; for greater 
tenderness or affection perhaps was never witnessed than she testified 
towards this little treasure. But, alas ! in rather less than a year 
after its birth, it was called to the arms of that Savior who had con- 
descended to bless such little ones while he sojourned here on earth. 
This was the second time Caroline had felt the pain of separation 
from an only sister ; but her grief was tempered with sweet submis- 
sion to the decree of unerring wisdom. She, nevertheless, discov- 
ered great sensibility whenever this child was mentioned, and could 
seldom suppress her tears on such occasions. 

At the close of her thirtenth year, Caroline had attained the stat- 
ure of a woman. Being tall and slender, her close application to 
study, and the death of her little sister, occasioned her health (which 
had always before been good) to become rather delicate. A journey 
was advised ; and accordingly, in the spring of 1814 she set out, ac- 
companied by her mother, on a journey to New York, to visit a num- 
ber of beloved relations who resided in that city. On this journey 
she was also accompanied by her cousin, Cornelia Walker, who had 



472 MEMOIRS OF 

been as a companion and sister to her, from early childhood. A de- 
tail of the incidents which occurred during that journey, will not be 
attempted. 

They travelled by land ; and before they had proceeded three 
hundred miles, Mrs. Smelt had the happiness to see her daughter's 
health improving daily. They spent some time, for the purpose of 
rest, in all the principal towns and cities which lay on their way to 
New York ; but^ made a considerable stay near Richmond, in Vir- 
ginia, as they had relations in its neighborhood. The young ladies 
were delighted with all they saw. Every city opened upon their 
youthful vision, like a new world ; Caroline's health still improving, 
and her mind expanding more and more. 

When they reached New York, it was about the last of May. 
Her friends there considered Caroline's health still rather delicate ; 
but her mother regarded it as sufficiently restored to qualify her for 
resuming her studies. Accordingly, as soon as she was perfectly 
rested, after the fatigue of the journey, Mrs. Smelt placed her at an 
excellent school, designing to leave her there a year or two, if she 
could receive greater advantages for education in that city than she 
could at home. To this scheme Caroline could not willingly assent; 
and offered such reasons for her opposition as determined her mother 
to bring her home with her. 

Having spent eight months in travelling and visiting their friends, 
they returned home by the same route by which they had gone ; 
after which, Caroline resumed her studies partly under private in- 
structors. At this period she manifested an increasing ambition to 
acquire literary knowledge, which her mother feared would occupy 
her whole attention, to the exclusion of every other consideration. 
Mrs. Smelt frequently admonished her, at least to equalize her atten- 
tion, and not devote the whole of her time to that, which, however 
laudable in itself, she was carrying to an extreme. To this Caroline 
would reply, that she was desirous of obtaining all the useful knowl- 
edge she could ; that she wished to meet the expectations of her 
friends, and to lay up for herself a plentiful store of information while 
she was young, and unincumbered with cares or pleasures. She has 
since confessed, that the thirst for human knowledge had excited in 
her mind so much ambition to be considered learned, and to be dis- 
tinguished for her intellectual attainments, that she frequently feared 
her desires to be a Christian were suffering considerable abatement ; 
that her judgment was not sufficiently matured to enable her rightly 
to divide her time ; that she stood in great need of the admonitory 
cautions, which she used to receive from her mother, as they gener- 
ally tended to humble her aspiring notions, and bring her to serious 
reflections. She, at the same time, observed that she could with 
great truth declare that she had never felt the least tincture of vani- 
ty in her nature, except what arose from the compliments which her 
friends had paid to her understanding. "But," said she, "the good- 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 473 

ness of Providence soon quelled this foolish spirit, by showing me, 
that to whom much is given, of the same much will be required." 
And resuming the conversation at another time, she said, " My be- 
loved mother, how thankful do I feel that I was brought, through 
grace, to see there was time for all things ; that the improvement of 
my youthful mind need not exclude piety, but that both could sweet- 
ly harmonize ; and every talent intrusted to my care, when properly 
exercised, might redound to the glory of God. Instead of being 
vain, I now feel a double weight of responsibility ; but I desire that 
my friends may never compliment me again ; it may prove unprofit- 
able. I would thank them much more, if they would kindly tell me 
of my faults. I fondly hope my vanity and foolish ambition were 
buried at the same time ; and that too, before any, but a mother's 
eye, had discerned them ; but I wish to avoid every thing that might 
rouse their ashes." 

Thus employed, in pursuing such an education as became her 
birth, her fortune, and future prospects in life, she continued to de- 
light her parents, and increase the number of her friends, by exhib- 
iting every virtue, and performing every filial duty which the fond 
solicitude of parental affection could desire or expect from a daugh- 
ter of her age, until she had completed her fifteenth year. 

She had now arrived at the period when she was about to be 
ushered into society as a young lady. Her principles were pure, her 
manners dignified, and extremely modest. She was unaffected, in- 
telligent, and inoffensive ; graceful, meek, and affectionate. Her 
mother saw much to gratify her fond heart, but her mind was not 
free from maternal anxiety. The eternal welfare of this beloved 
daughter lay near her heart. 

Mrs. Smelt had long ere this time cherished a hope that her be- 
loved Caroline was a child of grace ; but she now feared that she 
might be drawn into various temptations, be allured by worldly 
amusements, contract a fondness for gay society, and thereby lose 
her religious impressions. She regretted the want of a regular min- 
istry. The ill health of Dr. Thompson, who was their pastor at that 
time, subjected his congregation to many privations. Therefore, the 
only resource of her mother's mind, in her then trying circumstances, 
appeared to be a steady application to a throne of grace in her child's 
behalf, together with the use of such methods and admonitions as 
might appear most proper to counteract the influence of the world. 
She was soon surprised to see her daughter show no fondness for 
parties of pleasure, and to hear her express great wonder, that ra- 
tional beings could be so delighted with them. She several times 
observed to her mother, that she did not think it profitable or right 
in serious people, to countenance so much folly and extravagance in 
what were termed social parties ; and as to her own feelings, she 
could truly say they afforded her neither pleasure nor improvement ; 
that she enjoyed the society of a few friends around her father's 

60 



474 MEMOIRS OF 

fireside, or the perusal of a good book, more than she did any gay 
amusement. 

Notwithstanding these were her sentiments, she was often allured 
to participate in fashionable follies, and for eight months previous to 
her acquaintance with the Rev. Mr. J., she had been much engaged 
in worldly amusements. 

There are, no doubt, many who will ever regard it as a token of 
the goodness of Divine Providence, that this ambassador of Christ 
was directed to visit Augusta at this time. His visit was short, but 
long enough to afford a number of persons an opportunity of becom- 
ing acquainted with him, of hearing him preach several times, and 
of laying the foundation of a friendship which, it is hoped, will con- 
tinue through eternity. He left them in July, 1816, intending to visit 
the Western country, and uncertain whether he would return to Au- 
gusta. Mrs. Smelt requested an interest in his prayers, but particu- 
larly, that he would remember her beloved Caroline at a throne of 
grace ; and she felt a pleasing confidence that he did not forget her 
request. 

Shortly after this, the Presbyterian church of Augusta being then 
destitute of a pastor, Caroline retired to the country to spend the 
residue of the summer about twelve miles from town. There, in the 
society of her sister-cousin, Cornelia Walker, she promised herself 
much satisfaction. She had enjoyed this retreat but a few days when 
she was attacked with a slight indisposition, but which continued until 
the month of October. During this indisposition both her parents 
were frequently with her. Her mother observed, with deep concern, 
the decline of her Caroline's health ; but neither she nor Dr. Smelt 
could discover any symptoms to justify an apprehension of immediate 
danger. She was not confined, nor did she complain of any thing 
but want of appetite and consequent debility. Her parents knew 
her attachment to study, and advised her to exercise more in the 
open air ; to put away, for the present, her books, globes, maps, &c. 
and to substitute walking, riding, and swinging, until her strength 
should be restored. She complied with their wishes, and in a few 
weeks appeared considerably improved in health, but not entirely welh 

She returned home from the country late in October, her health 
being considerable improved, yet still rather feeble. The church 
which she had usually attended was still destitute of a pastor. She 
was soon surrounded by her gay young friends and an extensive ac- 
quaintance ; but she seemed resolved not to be allured into what she 
then considered to be criminal amusements, and took a decided stand 
against them. Within a few weeks after her return, the Rev. Mr. 
J. again visited Augusta, and was prevailed on to tarry there six or 
eight months. Caroline now regularly attended on his ministry, and 
appeared to grow in the knowledge and love of evangelical truth. 
Doctor Smelt's family were frequently favored with the social visits 
of their pastor, and a pleasing hope was once more entertained by 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 475 

Mrs. Smelt, that her Caroline would soon make a profession of her 
faith in Christ. She could seldom prevail on her daughter to con- 
verse freely about herself. Whenever this subject was touched upon, 
which lay nearest to her heart, tears would begin to flow without one 
word accompanying them. 

In the course of the winter, Miss Caroline engaged in a Scripture 
class, composed of young ladies, for the improvement of their knowl- 
edge of the Holy Scriptures. This institution was projected and 
patronized by Mr. J., and was of incalculable advantage to Miss 
Caroline. During the winter she resisted every invitation and solici- 
tation to attend the dancing assemblies, except one; and but once did 
she attend the theatre. On her return from the ball she informed 
her mother, that she had made a solemn resolution never to attend 
another. This she carefully kept, and never did attend another ball, 
though she frequently engaged in private parties, but seldom, if ever, 
with her own consent. 

About this time Mrs. Smelt felt unusually exercised about the eter- 
nal welfare of her daughter, and frequently retired with her to hold 
secret prayer. She felt oppressed with apprehensions for the life of 
her child, and to many of her friends expressed a fear that she should 
lose her soon. To one she said, "I fear that the worm is already at 
the root of my gourd : I feel an awful presentiment that my Caroline 
will descend to an early tomb." To another she said, " O that my 
child were but right in the sight of the Lord, I should then feel more 
comfortable, and less reluctant to part with her." To a pious friend 
she frequently mentioned her apprehensions, and intreated him to lay 
her case before the Lord. She saw that Caroline was serious, that 
she had very correct views of religion ; was remarkably tender, and 
read the Scriptures. She had also good reason to believe that she 
was attentive to secret devotion. She listened attentively to pious 
instructions, while the tears would flow down her cheeks ; but she 
never could draw her out in conversation, so as to obtain a knowledge 
of her views as it respected herself, nor could any of her pious 
friends succeed any better. 

She was asked several times by her mother, why she observed so 
much reserve on this all-important subject, and could be so commu- 
nicative on any other ? She once replied, " My dear mamma, I have 
no confidence in myself; I hope to do that which is right when J 
shall have more experience. \ desire to belong to the little flock, 
but I am too unstable." On another occasion, she said to her mother, 
" I was very much impressed under the discourse of Mr. J. last Sab- 
bath, and thought that he was preaching to me exclusively. I felt 
very solemn, and made a number of good resolutions, and hoped I 
should be enabled to keep them. I thought that I would, and deter- 
mined to begin that day. But alas ! I had scarcely left the church 
when I was surrounded by a number of my gay young friends, sev- 
eral of whom walked with mc, and introduced a great deal of small 



476 MEMOIRS OF 

light chat ; and before I reached home, I found all the solemnity oc- 
casioned by the sermon so nearly effaced, that scarcely an impres- 
sion was left. I feel very guilty as it is, but if I were a professing 
Christian, what dishonor should I bring on the church ?" 

The winter and spring passed away without any very remarkable 
occurrence. One circumstance, however, seems worthy of notice, as 
it was referred to afterwards. Some time late in that winter Mr. J., 
accompanied by a minister of the Gospel who was a stranger, came 
to Doctor Smelt's house, in order to spend the evening with the fam- 
ily. In the course of the conversation, Mrs. Smelt mentioned some 
of the difficulties which she had experienced when she was about to 
be made a subject of the new birth. Caroline had often heard of 
those difficulties before, and always discovered much sensibility on 
such occasions; but this evening she appeared unusually impressed, 
insomuch that she took no part in the conversation afterwards. Mr. 
J. observing that she was dejected, approached her seat, and with 
affectionate solicitude said to her, " Miss Caroline, you must not be 
discouraged at what your mamma has stated ; the Lord, I hope, will 
draw you by the cords of love. Very few experience as severe ex- 
ercises of mind as she did." He then put into her hand a small re- 
ligious tract, which she read before she retired to rest, and which ap- 
peared to comfort her, though she said nothing. Doctor Smelt being 
on a visit to a sick lady in the country, and Caroline intending that 
night to sleep with her mother, the latter considered it a good oppor- 
tunity to converse freely with her daughter on the necessity of ob- 
taining a saving interest in Christ. Caroline wept ; they went to 
prayer ; she sobbed aloud, but still said nothing. After retiring to 
bed, neither of them could sleep until a very late hour. 

From this period Mrs. Smelt discovered a great change in her 
child. She was often pensive ; attached herself more closely to her 
mother than before, and appeared more disgusted with the world than 
ever ; more anxious for religious instruction, and more zealous in the 
performance of every duty. 

Her birth-day arrived ; she was sixteen years old. Mr. J. called 
in on that day to visit the family. Before leaving the house he en- 
gaged in prayer, and particularly in behalf of Miss Caroline. She 
was much agitated, but still observed her usual taciturnity. Twelve 
months afterward, precisely at the same hour of the day, he was en- 
gaged in preaching her funeral sermon ! 

A few months before this Doctor Smelt and his family had changed 
their residence, in order that their dwelling house might undergo 
some repairs. Miss Caroline began to express her anxiety to return 
to the house in which she was born. She said she was attached to 
every part of it, but particularly to one room ; she longed to occupy 
that. Hearing her frequently express a desire to see the house fin- 
ished, that they might return to it, her mother one day said to her, 
*> What has become of your patience, my child ? The work cannot 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 477 

go on faster than it does." She replied, "O mamma, I wish to take 
possession of my own little room, it is sweetly adapted to study and 
contemplation ; and then I shall be on the same story with you and 
papa, and we can so conveniently visit each others' apartments ; for 
I want always to be near you." 

In a short time she was gratified, and took possession of this fa- 
vorite apartment. Her health was better than usual ; indeed her 
parents considered her perfectly well, and all things appeared to go 
on prosperously for a few weeks. 

It was now the month of July, the sickly season approaching fast, 
and Mr. J., their pastor, about to set out for the North, to visit his 
relations and recruit his own health. These united considerations 
contributed to depress the mind of Mrs. Smelt. She was still im- 
pressed with a presentiment, that some great trouble awaited her in 
a short time ; and she could not banish the apprehension from her 
mind, that the loss of her only living child, would be that trouble» 
The prospect of such an event was so distressing, that she mention- 
ed her uneasiness to several friends, and to Mr. J. in particular, 
and became more than ever engaged for the eternal welfare of her 
daughter. 

Mr. J. called to take leave of the family before his departure, 
After he left the house, Mrs. Smelt retired and left Caroline in the 
room by herself. On her mother's return, she was found sitting in 
the same spot where she had been left, still holding a book in her 
hand, which she had just received as a parting gift from her pastor. 
She appeared much dejected. Her mother seated herself by her, 
and entered into a detail of the advantages that might result from 
their acquaintance with Mr. J. if they followed his counsels, and im- 
proved them as they ought. Caroline then expressed her deep re- 
gret that the church would again be shut up ; and wished that Mr. J. 
could have been prevailed on to stay the year out, for she was very 
sure he could not be more wanted any where else. 

While the Presbyterian house of worship was shut up Mrs. Smelt 
and her daughter determined to attend the Methodist chapel, the 
worthy pastor of that congregation being a man of exalted piety. 
For several Sabbaths they attended the Sunday-school, which af- 
forded Caroline the highest satisfaction. She resolved to make ap- 
plication for instructing a female class, but on the 13th of August 
her mother was taken sick, and she never afterwards had an oppor- 
tunity. 

When Mrs. Smelt was taken ill, the first symptoms gave reason 
to believe that she would have a severe attack. The fever which 
had appeared in the city was raging with great violence. She had 
been much exposed to it, and for four or five days and nights pre- 
vious to her attack, she had been sitting up and attending to an or- 
phan child, who died that evening, in the fourteenth year of her age. 
Finding herself unwell, and the child dying, she returned home, sta - 



478 MEMOIRS OF 

ted the little sufferer's situation to her daughter, but did not mention 
her own symptoms. Caroline expressed a desire to see the dying 
orphan, as she had never seen any person die. Apprehensive that 
she might take the fever, or be greatly alarmed, her mother hesitated. 
At length she committed her to the care of a merciful God, and, with 
uncommon fervor, implored that He would sanctify this visit to the 
chamber of death, to the heart of her beloved daughter. The result 
evinced that her prayers were heard and answered. 

Caroline went : the distance was only to the next door. She 
staid some time ; returned, and reported the little girl to be in con- 
vulsive agonies. She could not stay to see the end ; such sufferings 
she had never before witnessed. She was bathed in tears, and over- 
whelmed with sorrow. Her fears were immediately excited on her 
mother's account, because she saw that she was ill. She afterwards 
informed her mother, that she had never tasted the bitterness of sor- 
row until that night ; that her soul was in deep anguish, and her heart 
near bursting. On this occasion, her appearance was peculiarly in- 
teresting. 

After this Caroline appeared to throw off all restraint in conver- 
sing with her mother on the subject of experimental religion ; and in 
the course of five or six days Mrs. Smelt was restored to a comfort- 
able measure of health. 

Caroline now appeared to attach herself to her mother more than 
ever — seemed reluctant to leave her, even to attend to common du- 
ties — would often invite her into her room, in order to have social 
conversation, or that they might read to each other. When Mrs. 
Smelt was obliged to leave her, she would entreat her to return as 
soon as possible ; and on returning, her mother would frequently 
find her reading the scriptures. 

A short time before she was taken sick, she engaged with two 
other ladies to make a collection for the poor. Very many of that 
class in the city bounds were in great affliction, and required some 
public effort to be made for their relief. On the morning of that 
day on which they were to commence their benevolent operations, 
she hesitated — indeed shed tears, and said that she felt such reluc- 
tance and timidity, she wished to be excused. Her father and mo- 
ther both gave her every encouragement — desired her to lay aside 
her fears, and to look only at the magnitude and importance of the 
object. She wiped away her tears — summoned up resolution to go 
forth, and in a few hours they collected more than six hundred dol- 
lars from the charitable inhabitants of the city. When Caroline saw 
the success which had attended this, their first effort of the kind, she 
said, " well mamma, how delightful is the path of duty ! my poor 
timid nature shrunk from the task before me this morning ; and if 
you and papa had not encouraged me as you did, I should have staid 
at home and done nothing for the poor this day. I am now thankful 
that I went, though I am very sure I did not aid the cause much, for 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 479 

I asked but one person to contribute his mite, and that was an inti- 
mate acquaintance. I carried the purse and left all the begging to 
the other two ladies. However I feel pleasant this evening in reflec- 
ting on the events of the day, and hope I may be more useful in fu- 
ture." She appeared in better health than usual, from this period to 
the day on which she was attacked with the fatal fever, which termi- 
nated her life. Indeed, her health for several preceding months had 
been considered by her parents as being very good. 

On the morning of the 28th of August, somewhat more than a 
fortnight after her painful exercises about her mother, Caroline was 
sitting in her own room, in cheerful conversation with her mother and 
another female friend. She after some time, laid down her sewing 
and walked into her mother's room. Mrs. Smelt, finding that her 
daughter did not return immediately, after some delay, followed her 
and found her extended on her bed. She observed that Caroline look- 
ed very pale, and inquired the cause. Caroline very calmly replied 
that she felt very unwell — that she had been seized with a sudden ver- 
tigo — that she found the bed a very timely relief, for she could not bal- 
ance herself — that she then felt much better and would soon get up. 
Mrs. Smelt then called her husband, the doctor, into the room, who ex- 
amined her pulse, and applied some volatiles to his daughter's head ; 
after which, she was soon so much relieved, as to be able to get up, 
dress herself, and join the family at dinner, in her usual spirits. 
But, in the course of that night a most violent fever came on, which 
was never perfectly subdued. 

September 1st. — This was a day never to be forgotten by Mrs. 
Smelt : her feelings were such as cannot be described — no language 
can convey an adequate idea of them. She saw her child ill and 
feared the worst. She strove repeatedly to entreat the Lord to spare 
her daughter's life ; but seemed as if she could not pray. At length 
she prostrated herself before God time after time, and implored the 
God of mercy to wash her child in the blood of the Lamb ; and if 
she were about to be removed by death, to enable her to leave her 
friends some comforting token of her acceptance with God. The 
mother's agonies were great and distressing on this subject. She- 
pleaded for this blessing to her daughter, in the name and for the 
sake of the blessed Redeemer. She pleaded various promises in 
the word of God. At length she promised that if the Lord would 
be gracious to the soul of her child, she would give her up without 
a murmur. Towards evening she was more composed, had strong- 
er faith ; but her daughter was no better. 

Caroline was sensible of her mother's distress, and said all she 
could to comfort her. The friends, as well as the physicians who 
were present, were surprised to see her so composed and submis- 
sive. They ascribe this, in a great degree, to her tenderness for her 
mother. 



480 MEMOIRS OF 

It was remarked by all who visited her, that they never saw a 
countenance expressive of so much heavenly serenity, and such 
celestial beauty, as appeared in hers during this and the succeeding 
part of her sickness. Her face frequently reminded some of her 
pious friends of what was said of the patriarch Moses, when he 
came down from converse with his Maker on the mount, for it in- 
deed appeared to shine with a sacred radiance, which suffered no 
change throughout her whole confinement. 

One morning she spoke much of death, and longed for its ap- 
proach. She admonished many of her young friends, and entreat- 
ed them to seek an interest in Christ, in preference to all other attain- 
ments. Believing her departure to be very near, she took a solemn 
leave of many who visited her on that day. With a countenance 
beaming with divine love and a voice most harmonious, she said to 
her mother, " O my beloved mother ! weep not for me. My suffer- 
ings will soon terminate. Blessed be God ! who hath not turned away 
my prayer, nor his mercy from me." Through the blood of the cross, 
death is disarmed of all his terrors ; the grave, to which I am has- 
tening, is deprived of all victory. Oh the boundless goodness of 
God ! thus to support a frail worm of the dust ; for what is man, 
that he should be mindful of him? or the son of man, that he should 
visit him ? I am going — yes I am going to that happy land, so finely 
described by Dr. Watts ;" repeating the following lines with great 
emphasis : 

" 1 There is a land of pure delight, 
Where saints immortal reign; 
Infinite day excludes the night, 
And pleasures banish pain. 

2 There everlasting spring abides, 
And never with'ring flowers ; 
Death, like a narrow sea, divides 
This heavenly land from ours. 

3 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood 
Stand dress'd in living green ; 

So to the Jews old Canaan stood, 
While Jordan roll'd between." 

She did not finish the hymn ; but addressed some young friends 
who had just entered the room. "You see before you," said she, 
" a young, timid, delicate female, not yet seventeen years old — the 
only child of my beloved parents — surrounded with all the comforts 
of life — nurtured with pecular tenderness, in the bosom of parental 
affection from my earliest infancy, and always sheltered from the 
rude blasts of misfortune — blessed with the friendship of an exten- 
sive acquaintance, and beloved by all my dear relations. I could add 
many other considerations calculated to attach me to this world ; but 
I can say, with holy joy, farewell to all ! yea, I desire to depart and 
be with Christ, which is far better. I am going to my Redeemer's 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 481 

kingdom : his arms are open to receive me. O ! the incalculable 
benefits resulting from the religion of Jesus, the once crucified, but 
now gloriously exalted son of God. What but this, my friends, 
could sustain me in this trying hour? my sensibility is not blunted. 
My heart was formed for sympathy and the sweets of friendship. I 
am sensible of the sorrow which my departure will occasion in the 
breasts of those w T hom I tenderly love ; but I commit them to the 
care of one who is able to console them, and who will, I trust, pre- 
pare them to join me in the regions of eternal glory, where we shall 
part no more. O ! my dear young friends allow me to entreat you 
to embrace this religion. To a bed of death you will all have to 
come ; and at the bar of judgment you will have to give an account 
of all the deeds done by you in this world ; and if the Savior is not 
then your friend, I tremble to think of your fate. O ! close with 
the offers of mercy. Now is the accepted time ; to-day is the day 
of salvation. When I am gone, will you ever think of me ? will 
you strive to remember the displays of God's mercy to me ? and will 
you endeavor to obtain his favor also ? that you may finish your 
course, as I hope to finish mine, rejoicing in redeeming love, com- 
forted and sustained against every fear ? I feel peace in my heart, 
and joy unspeakable and full of glory." 

After being some time silent, she said to Mrs. Smelt, " My mother, 
let me see you put on the Christian's beautiful robe — holy submission. 
You will not be left alone : for the Lord is your friend, and he can be 
more to you than ten sons and daughters. Your case is by no means 
a new one. Recollect the trials of your name-sake, the mother of 
our blessed Redeemer. She w T as called upon to give up her only 
child — she did so. He died a most cruel and ignominious death. 
He had none of the temporal comforts which I enjoy — no friends to 
soothe his sorrows — no bed on which to rest his weary limbs — no 
kind attendants, to administer a cooling draught to quench a parching 
thirst — no — He had to drink vinegar and gall. His blessed mother 
was not allowed to sit by him, as you sit by me, and receive divine 
comfort from his sacred lips. O my dear mother ! think of these 
things and believe yourself blessed. Let your faith rise in lively 
exercise, to the sufferings of the Son of God. View him in the 
garden ; go with him to Pilate. See his patient meekness ! like a 
lamb dumb before his shearers, so he opened not his mouth. He 
suffered, the just for the unjust, and by his stripes I am healed. He 
died that we might live. He bore our sins in his own body. He 
was God over all blessed forever, and yet he submitted to the death 
of the cross, that a perishing world might be saved. When I take a 
view of his compassionate mercy to rebellious sinners, I am lost in 
wonder. When I see his sacred temples perforated, and encircled 
with a crown of thorns, I am ready to cry out, and did my Savior suf- 
fer thus ? for whom and for what yvas he thus afflicted and scourged ? 
In a moment, I answer, for me — poor unworthy me ; and not only for 

01 



482 MEMOIRS OF 

sinful me, but for you, my mother, and for as many as will believe in 
bis all sufficient atonement. When, with the eye of faith, I see my 
immaculate Savior extended on the cross, my heart dissolves with 
tenderness and gratitude. I feel humble and submissive — ready and 
willing to suffer any thing ; yea, feel happy in being thought worthy 
to suffer ; for you know, whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth, &tc 

The physicians entered her room ; after which, with a sweet smile 
on her countenance, she said to them, " My kind friends and broth- 
ers, you have striven hard to raise this frail tenement ; but it will all 
be in vain. You have done much for me. I have not been unmind- 
ful of the deep interest and tender solicitude, which you have dis- 
covered in my case. I have sensibly felt for the fatigue and loss of 
rest, to which you have so willingly submitted, during my protracted 
illness ; but I think it will soon draw to a close. In return for so 
much kindness, allow me to bid an affectionate farewell to you all, 
but not before I strive to impress a few important truths on your 
minds." Then raising her eyes, she said, " may the God of mercy 
write them upon your hearts !" 

She then said much to them concerning the truth of the scriptures—- 
the necessity of being prepared for death, &c. and obtained a prom- 
ise from them all, that they would not forget what she had said, and 
would comply with the request which she had made. She then bade 
them farewell, and said, " I hope to see you again ; yes, 1 hope to 
see you in my Redeemer's kingdom." 

Her mother having retired for a few minutes, in order to conceal 
the emotions of her grief, which she felt unable to control, now re- 
turned, and found all in the room in tears except her daughter. 
With a celestial mildness in her countenance, she then addressed her 
mother thus : " Now, my mother, the conflict will soon be over. I 
wish you to put on the whole Christian, and carry my most affec- 
tionate regard to my beloved father. Tell him, farewell. Tell him, 
I loved him in life, and loved him in the hour of death. Request 
him, from me, to pray frequently and fervently for regenerating grace. 
Tell him that I commit him, soul and body, to the Lord Jesus. Let 
it comfort him to know that I have unclouded prospects of an imme- 
diate entrance into my heavenly Father's kingdom." Her mother 
then rose, went to Dr. Smelt, who was sick in another room, and 
delivered the message of Caroline to her father; who, in return, sent 
to her, by Mrs. Smelt, a similar expression of his warm affection, 
accompanied by a fervent prayer that her life might be continued 
many years. On receiving this information, Caroline said "lam 
sorry that my dear parents do not feel more resigned to the will of 
God ; but he will comfort them in his own time, and in his own way." 

After pausing for some minutes, as if to gather strength to speak, she 
called her mother to her and said, " my blessed mother, I have been 
praying that your faith may be strengthened, and that the Lord may 
be your friend in life and in death. I now wish you to take a pleas- 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 483 

ant view of your daughter — bid her farewell ; and if you cannot, 
with composure, witness her departure, retire to another room. The 
conflict will soon be over, and the Lord will not forsake you." Her 
mother's heart was deeply penetrated with that voice, which she 
thought she was now hearing for the last time. She regarded her 
daughter with affectionate admiration, and lingered in suspense, hesi- 
tating whether to remain or retire. Although she spoke not a word, 
yet Caroline seemed to conceive correctly what her feelings were, 
and continued her address in these words, "yes, my precious mother, 
the Lord will enable you. Only cast yourself upon him — look to 
him for strength, and plead with him for faith. Divine faith can 
enable us to perform every duty — to overcome mountainous difficul- 
ties. Faith in the Son of God enables me to part with you, my 
mother, without feeling one pang, on my own account." She then 
made an effort to extend her arms to embrace her mother ; who 
folded her to her bosom and said, " farewell, my beloved daughter." 
Caroline then exclaimed, " I feel clothed with the whole armor of 
God. Farewell, my blessed mother ; the Lord will be your com- 
forter." 

One day, after being visited by some pious persons, she observed 
to her mother, that it afforded her great pleasure to converse with the 
children of God ; " for to them," said she, " I speak in a known 
tongue. They know the import of every word, having been taught 
in the same school. O mother, I now understand that passage in 
the Holy Scriptures, which tells us, the iirisdom of man is foolishness 
ivith God. It is indeed foolishness — perfect folly. All that I ever 
knew is but as a drop in the ocean, in comparison with what I now 
feel and know. The holy Comforter is indeed a divine teacher. 
Oh ! that all the world would seek after true wisdom, for her ways 
are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. 

September \0th. — She was still better, her fever light, and all her 
symptoms favorable. On this day she conversed freely and frequent- 
ly with her mother, and referred, with great pleasure, to her acquaint- 
ance with the Rev. Mr. J. She said "she had often felt very solemn 
under the preaching of the Rev. Dr. Thompson ; but these impres- 
sions would soon pass away; they were like the early cloud and the 
morning dew. But under Mr. J.'s preaching, she had been made 
to see, and to feel the necessity of having an interest in Jesus. Oh, 
mother ! if you live to see that man of God, tell him what the Lord 
has done for my soul. Tell him, he was one of the happy instru- 
ments employed by my heavenly Father to bring me to Christ. 
Tell him all ; it will fill his heart with joy and gladness." Mrs. 
Smelt then observed to her daughter, that she hoped she would live 
to tell him herself. Caroline replied, " my mother, you must not 
wish or hope ; leave the event to God, who doelh all things well. 
When I reflect," said she, "on my deportment towards Mr. J., 1 
ihink how great must his discouragements have been. I wonder 



484 MEMOIRS OF 

that he did not give me up ; but he did not. How often has he 
said, come out from the world, Miss Caroline, O come out! and on 
one occasion he observed, if you will come out from the world, Ifeel 
as if a host would follow. Nothing but his engagedness in his Mas- 
ter's work could have made him so anxious for my eternal welfare. 
Oh ! if I could now see him, I would speak to him without reserve. 
I should be delighted to receive the sacrament of the Lord's supper 
from his hands ; and I am resolved, if I am raised from this bed, 
the first place I shall go to, will be the church. I will there present 
myself in the presence of the congregation, and make a public pro- 
fession of my faith in Christ. Oh how I lament that I have so often 
neglected opportunities of doing this, when I was in health ! Now I 
should delight to take my mother by the hand, and in the presence 
of seven millions of people, take a seat with her at the table of the 
Lord." 

September 11th. — She appeared so much better, that little doubt 
was entertained of her recovery. This day she was visited by 
many friends, and was uncommonly zealous and feeling in her con- 
versation with them. A very intelligent female friend, who heard 
her on this occasion, afterwards observed that she was the most di- 
vine preacher she had ever heard— that her eloquence and fervor 
far surpassed any thing she had ever witnessed — that her voice 
seemed to partake of the nature of heaven. Her prayers astonished 
every one. The same friend, at another time, expressed her sur- 
prise at the extraordinary powers which she exhibited. To this 
Caroline replied, " my mental powers are exceedingly enlarged — 
the Holy Spirit is my teacher — of myself I could do nothing ; but a 
new tongue hath been given me, and a new spirit put within me. 
Give God the praise ; for he hath said, out of the mouths of babes 
and sucklings shall praise be perfected. Behold what he has done 
in my case ! I who could not, a few weeks ago, raise my voice to 
be heard without embarrassment, particularly if the religion of Jesus 
was the subject, can now speak with holy boldness and inexpressible 
delight. My kind physicians try to impose silence ; but I must 
speak. I have perhaps but a short time to labor — my master's work 
I must do. His commands are more important than theirs, and I 
delight to do his will. O! that all the world could feel as I do. 
O! that the Lord would make me the happy instrument of turning 
one soul to Christ. O! that my dear young friends would come out 
from the world, as my friend and brother, Mr. J., used to say 
to me." 

She then addressed some young persons, who were present, in a 
most pathetic and eloquent manner, expressive of her most affec- 
tionate attachment and earnest solicitude, for their present and future 
felicity. Of this part of her exercises, it is not believed that any 
complete or just representation can be given here ; therefore it will 
aot be attempted. 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 4S5 

On the subject of worldly amusement, she was uncommonly ear- 
nest and forcible. In speaking on this subject to some friends, she 
said " let no person, endowed with rational powers, call them inno- 
cent or harmless. How can that be innocent, which leads to a pro- 
digal waste of precious time ? How can that thing be called harm- 
less, which leads to an unnecessary exposure of health ? How can 
that amusement be innocent, which has not the glory of God for its 
object ? How can that amusement be harmless, which has a direct 
tendency to unfit the mind for devotional exercises ? We are such 
frail creatures that we constantly require some excitement to lead us 
to God, and not to estrange us from him. Will any venture to say, 
that they have been brought to love the Lord Jesus better, by hav- 
ing attended a theatre or a ball-room ? I presume not. I can say 
from my own experience, that 1 never derived solid improvement or 
real pleasure from either. From neither of them, have I ever de- 
rived any thing, which could afford my mind the least satisfaction in 
hours devoted to self-examination, nor any thing to strengthen the 
soul against the terrors of death and judgment. I consider them 
worse than vanity — they are exceedingly sinful." 

She spoke much of her absent relatives and friends, and desired 
that particular messages might be delivered to them. She observed 
that it would afford her inexpressible satisfaction to see them once 
more — to tell them all that the Lord had done for her soul, and to 
encourage them to rest their hopes on him. " But," said she, " if 
it be decreed that we shall not meet again in this life, tell them, it 
will be their own fault if we do not meet in another and a better 
world — tell them, there is room enough for all, in my Redeemer's 
kingdom — and he will give them a gracious reception, if they will 
only take up the cross and follow him." Then addressing herself 
particularly to her mother, she said, " O my mother ! it would give 
rne such happiness to see my pious friend, Mr. J. I feel as if he 
was my spiritual father, my dear brother in the Lord. Could he 
see me now, I trust he would not be ashamed to own me as his child, 
his sister ; no, he would gladly own the relationship." It was re- 
marked by the many friends who saw her, that they never witnessed 
stronger filial affection in their lives. She was ever on the watch 
to pour the balm of consolation into the heart of her sorrowing 
mother ; and omitted nothing that she thought calculated to relieve 
her feelings. 

September 12th. — On this day she felt so much better, though she 
still had some fever, which never went entirely off, that several friends 
did not hesitate to tell her, that she was getting well very fast. Her 
mother, standing by her bedside, said, "yes, the beloved of my heart 
is indeed recovering; and I do hope the Lord has heard my prayers, 
and will prolong her precious life many years." Caroline looked 
concerned. Someone observed, " I have no doubt of it; I think 
she will be able to ride out in a few dayb." She immediately gave 



486 MEMOIRS OF 

the friend a gentle rebuke. Mrs. Smelt then turned from the bed. 
In an instant Caroline called her back, and said, " my blessed 
mother, I did not intend that for you. I know your maternal ten- 
derness induces you to hope, and I conceive those hopes are per- 
fectly natural when kept under proper restrictions. I should be very 
sorry if you should think me capable of departing from my duty as 
a child, so far as to rebuke you, my mother. No ; I have too high 
a sense of that sacred command, which says, ' honor thy father and 
mother J he. and too much love and gratitude to you, ever to speak 
unbecomingly. I thought our friend (pointing to the person) spoke 
rather presumptuously, and needed a rebuke. But I did not intend 
the least offence to him, only to remind him that the secret designs 
of God were known only to himself, and that the event of my case 
was known only to my heavenly Father." 

The visiting friends having all retired, Caroline and her mother 
were left alone for an hour or two. The daughter then communi- 
cated many of the exercises of her mind, since she had been con- 
fined to that bed. " Mother," said she, " let no one call it a bed of 
affliction; it has been to me a heavenly bed. I wish I could des- 
cribe the visitation I had on the second r night of this month, and 
which I still feel with a grateful recollection. How mercifully did 
the Lord deal with me ! I was oppressed with a heavy burden : I 
felt guilty, self-condemned, and bowed down ; the passage of scrip- 
ture which I mentioned constantly ringing in my ears. I felt ill, 
extremely ill. I was not afraid of death in itself, but I feared the 
displeasure of God. I derived no comfort from the reflection that I 
had not been guilty of great crimes 5 no comfort from the recollec- 
tion that I had never, in conversation, or in any other way, used my 
Maker's name irreverently. I have always held it sacred ; for even 
in prayer or reading, I felt solemn whenever I repeated it. I knew 
my situation in life and a pious education had kept me from being 
exposed to gross temptations ; but I felt that I had lived in the neg- 
lect of many known duties, and in the abuse of many distinguished 
blessings ; that I had stifled many strong convictions, and grieved 
the Holy Spirit of God, who had been striving with me in various 
ways, ever since I was seven years old. I tried to draw comfort 
from the recollection, that I had for some months past resolved to 
take a decided stand to serve the Lord ; but how did I know that 
he would accept my imperfect services after such rebellion against 
him? I remembered the anxiety which I felt to return to this house. 
The Lord had gratified me sooner than I expected. I had resolved, 
as soon as we got settled, to commence a new system of devotion, 
and was impatient to begin. The first night on which I returned to 
the occupancy of my chamber deserves to be remembered. An 
soon as I found myself alone, I prostrated myself on the carpet, and 
poured out my soul in prayer to my heavenly Father. I resolved, 
by his assistance, to make it an important period in my life ; and 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 487 

from that moment to give up all worldly amusements. I made a 
solemn promise never to dance another step ; never to enter a thea- 
ter again, nor to resort to places of festivity and mirth. I considered 
them as all belonging to the same family, and injurious to a growth 
in grace. I then pleaded, with tears and great fervency, that my 
God and Savior would condescend to consecrate my chamber ; that 
he would make it a little Bethel, where he would often meet me. 
I then felt so comforted and strengthened in my good resolutions, 
that 1 had no doubt of my prayer being answered. But on the sec- 
ond day of this month, I received no consolation from a review of 
those circumstances ; no, not a ray of light from any quarter. 
Worlds would I have given for an interest in the redemption pur- 
chased by the blessed Redeemer. Without this, I felt I was forever 
lost. 1 strove to be fervent in prayer ; but many friends called, and 
I was much interrupted. I was enabled all the forepart of the day 
to appear composed, for I felt very unwilling, my dear mother, to in- 
crease your sorrows by telling you I was unhappy; but in the eve- 
ning I could not restrain my feelings ; I was compelled to let you 
know all. You then prayed for me, and repeated many precious 
promises. I felt a sudden heat pass over me ; it surpassed any 
thing which I ever felt before. My whole system seemed as if in a 
furnace. I was alarmed. I desired you to engage with me in silent 
prayer. O! then my wrestlings commenced, and for one hour, one 
short hour, they continued, at the end of which period, I was most 
wonderfully blessed. What I felt at that moment can never be de- 
scribed. The Spirit of God was in my soul, nor can I express the 
half of what he then revealed to me. Indeed, I dare not attempt 
to describe the manifestation which I then received. I felt the power 
of the Holy Ghost ; I felt that my soul was ransomed by the blood 
of the cross ; every sin washed away, and my name recorded in the 
Lamb's book of life. Love to God, and love to his people filled my 
heart. I knew of a truth that Jesus was mine, and I was his ; and 
from that moment to this, my faith, my views have been the very 
same, though my ecstacies have not always been equally great. 
One small cloud or temptation, and one only, has Satan been per- 
mitted to cast in my way, and that only for a few minutes. The 
Hearer of prayer soon removed it. I believe it was permitted, to 
show me my weakness, and to try my faith ; but the Lord soon said 
to my soul, \fear not, for 1 am with thee? O my mother ! do you 
wonder that I should be patient and happy, when I have such divine 
support, such holy comforts ?" 

She then desired that her position in the bed might be changed. 
This was done ; by which means she had a commanding view of the 
garden, from a window near her bed. It was then near sunset, and 
a most beautiful evening. As soon as she saw her flowering shrubs, 
(several of which were loaded with rich flowers,) she broke forth in 
the most exalted strains of admiration, and adoring ejaculations, to 



488 MEMOIRS OF 

the great Architect of the universe. She commented sweetly on the 
particular time of the evening. It was admirably adapted to sacred 
contemplation — then on the serenity of the azure vault of heaven — - 
then on a floating white cloud ; and remarked the harmony which 
subsisted, and was apparent, in all the works of God. She then ask- 
ed, " why do frail mortals seek pleasure in noisy, tumultuous amuse- 
ments, when such an ample volume lies open to their view ?" She 
then took leave of a favorite shrub, saying, " farewell, my innocent 
friend ; your fragrant blossoms have often regaled my senses, while 
my thoughts have ascended to him that made both you and me. I 
have often plucked your flowers, and ran with delight to present them 
to my mother ; but other hands will now gather your blossoms : fare- 
well, my tree, I long to be in the garden above. 

" The finest flower that ever blovv'd 
Open'd on Calvary's tree, 
When Jesus' blood in rivers flow'd, 
For love of worthless me. 

Its deepest hue, its sweetest smell 

No mortal can declare, 
Nor can the tongue of angels tell 

How bright the colors are. 

But soon, on yonder banks above, 

Shall every blossom here 
Appear a full-blown flower of love, 

Like him, transplanted there." 

Her countenance beamed with radiance when she said, " fare- 
well, garden, delightful spot for innocent amusement ! My infant 
feet have often trod your walks" — and smiling when she repeated, 
" they will never walk them again." She then listened, with appar- 
ent rapture, to the notes of a little bird, that was perched on a tree 
near her window, until her soul seemed transported almost to heaven. 
She soon afterwards desired her mother to bring the Bible to her, 
and read the 121st psalm, the whole of which she was enabled to ap- 
ply to herself. Mrs. Smelt then read to her some passages in Isaiah. 
Caroline exclaimed, "it is the word of God : I feel it in my very soul. 
Isaiah is a divine prophet ; he is my prophet." 

A friend entered soon afterwards, to whom Caroline said, " my 
dear aunt, I have taken leave of the garden this evening, and have 
felt so happy, so entirely filled with divine love, that my room has 
appeared like a little Bethel, or the gate of heaven." She then de- 
sired her mother to read to her aunt the same psalm over again, say- 
ing, " every word of that psalm is applicable to me, for the Lord 
has preserved, and will keep me to the end, even for ever and ev- 
er." She then repeated to her friend many of the sentiments which 
she had just before uttered to her mother, on the subject of the gar- 
den, he. After which, she said, she had never before seen nature 
dressed in so beautiful a robe- — that a peculiar brightness or lustre 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 489 

appeared to rest upon every flower, and upon every leaf — that the 
whole sky, and even the little cloud seemed to bear a strong im- 
press of her Maker's glory, and concluded with the following beau- 
tiful lines : 

" The spacious firmament on high, 
" With all the blue ethereal sky, 
" And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
" Their great original proclaim." 

At this time, all her friends thought her much better, except her 
mother, whom the faculty considered unreasonable for indulging a 
doubt of her recovery. But she thought her daughter too ripe for 
glory to be long continued here ; and she wished to be submissively 
prepared for that dispensation of Divine Providence, which she 
thought would shortly remove " the joy of her heart, and desire of 
her eyes." That night Caroline enjoyed considerable quietude, but 
very little sleep. 

September 15th. — On the morning of this day she appeared, for 
some hours, much as she had been the day before. A friend hear- 
ing she was getting well, sent her twelve varieties of choice flowers. 
She appeared unusually delighted, as soon as she saw them. She 
requested her mother to spread them out before her on the bed, and 
then to present them, one by one, to her view, which was done ac- 
cordingly. There was one which was conspicuous for its size and 
color, which she requested to be handed to her first. On taking it 
in her hand, she called all her friends then present, to view its beau- 
ties. Her admiration of that flower excited the wonder of her 
friends ; for it did not strike them, at the moment, as being equal to 
the others in beauty, nor was it thought to accord with her general 
taste, as the flower in question was of a crimson hue. Her mother 
remarking this to her, she replied, " O mother ! then you do not see 
what I see, for it reflects beauty on all the rest. The rich crimson 
color reminds me of the precious blood of Christ — its size, transpa- 
rency, and fulness, remind me of the love, purity, and all-sufficiency 
of my blessed Redeemer. Examine its petals ; view the vast num- 
ber of veins in each ! how expressive of the channels of divine grace I 
What entire perfection is impressed on every leaf!" Her mother, 
fearing she would exhaust herself, proposed to take the whole of the 
flowers and put them in water. Caroline sweetly asked permission 
to examine the others also, which was granted. She then commented 
with great eloquence on each one, and concluded by repeating, "Sol- 
omon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these." These 
flowers were then gathered up to be removed, but she desired they 
might be put in a flower pot, and placed where she could view them. 
After the removal of the flowers, it was observed that she had re- 
tained the bud of a small white cluster-rose, which she held in her 
fingers. After a silence, which lasted for some Considerable time T 
Caroline at length said, " mother, look at this," holding the rose bud, 

62 



490 MEMOIRS OF 

She paused as if she wished her mother to say something. Mrs, 
Smelt replied, " my daughter, I suppose you discover some similari- 
ty between that bud and yourself." Caroline smiled. Mrs. Smelt 
observed, that the rose bud was an emblem of youth and innocence, 
Caroline again smiled, and said, "no, my mother, your thoughts and 
mine have not been the same this time, though we very generally 
think alike. But this little bud is emblematical of the grace that is 
now in my soul"— she then exclaimed, " to bloom, to expand in 
the garden of heaven !" In a short time afterwards, her mother 
discovered that Caroline was not so well as she had been, in which 
opinion, their friends did not agree with her. In the evening the 
fever increased, and her rest that night was not so good as for some 
nights immediately before. 

Towards the evening of the next day she had more fever, and little 
or no sleep that night. She evidently endured considerable pain ; 
but no complaint escaped from her lips. 

September 11th. — About nine o'clock of this day, a most violent 
chill came on, which was succeeded by a higher fever than she ever 
had before. Her sufferings were great, but not a murmur was she 
heard to utter. 

September \9th. — This morning she appeared rather better until 
the chill returned. When she felt the first symptoms of it, she ob- 
served to her mother that she was well pleased. Mrs. Smelt was 
much alarmed, because she apprehended that her daughter had not 
strength sufficient to enable her to live through it, but Caroline en- 
deavored to comfort her. 

Within a short time afterwards symptoms accompanying the fever, 
pointed to the necessity of blistering her head. When her hair was 
removed she expressed great satisfaction. She observed that many 
persons might suppose she would feel some mortification at the loss 
of her hair, but that she felt none. " I wish," said she, " my dear 
father may feel as composed as I do." She then desired a friend 
to hold it up to her view. She said, as she looked on it, " I did not 
think there was such a quantity." (It was more than a yard long, 
of a dark, glossy, brown color, and very thick.) " Well, it will 
never again fatigue my poor arms to comb, curl, and dispose of it 
fancifully. Had I kept it, I should never, I hope, have spent so 
much precious time in that way again ; but it is all over now. Put 
it away ; my parents will wish to see it." She soon afterwards fell 
asleep, and did not awake till near bed time. She then expressed 
her regret that she had slept so long, but was too feeble to speak 
much. She appeared very composed through the remaining part of 
the night. 

September 20th. — This morning she appeared to revive a little. 
She desired her mother to read a portion of God's word to her. 
After reading sundry passages, her mother said to her " my beloved 
Caroline, you are very ill ; how are your feelings to-day ? is your 



MISS CAROLINE ELIZABETH SMELT. 491 

faith as strong in the Lord Jesus as ever ? are you as willing to depart, 
and are your views of divine mercy as great, as clear as they have 
been? She replied, with a countenance beaming with divine love, 
"just the same, just the same. My heavenly Father has never left 
me ; and whether 1 live or die, it will be to the glory of God." She 
said much more, which cannot be accurately recollected ; but every 
sentiment which she expressed breathed the strongest confidence, 
and sweetest resignation to the will of God. 

It was soon discovered that her speech began to fail. Her mother 
took leave of her with forced composure. She shortly afterwards 
fell asleep, and never spoke again. She continued in this state for 
several hours ; after which, on Sabbath evening, the 21st September, 
her happy spirit was released from " the earthly house of its taberna- 
cle," and took its flight to the arms of Jesus. Not a single struggle 
— not the smallest distortion of features, nor even the movement of 
a single limb, appeared in her last moments. She was gone some 
seconds, before the many kind friends who surrounded her dying 
couch had ascertained that her spirit had indeed departed. 

It is deemed worthy of remark, that she told many of her friends, 
before her departure, that she had prayed that her end might be just 
as in the event it proved to be. She observed to them, that she 
" knew her dear parents would feel much distressed to see her die 
in hard struggles; or even to know that this was the case, if they 
did not witness it ; and she knew that her heaveniy Father would 
grant her petition, and temper the Providence, as much as was right, 
to their feelings." This was realized in a most remarkable degree. 
Her father, during the remission of his fever was enabled to visit her 
chamber, in company with her mother, during the lime of her sleep, 
which immediately preceded her decease. They saw it was the 
sleep of death ; for to their repeated calls she made no answer. 
Once, and only once, when standing by her bed-side, they united 
their voices in calling " Caroline, Oh Caroline ! our beloved daugh- 
ter, shall we never more hear the sound of your harmonious voice ? 
it is your father and mother that thus call you ;" she made an effort 
to open her eyes, and to move her lips to speak, but could not. How- 
ever, she was enabled to smile. She lay like one reposing in health, 
perfectly calm. They impressed a kiss of affection on her lips, re- 
peating, " It is yonr father — it is your mother." She made no signal of 
sensibility, except another smile. Mrs. Smelt repeated her visits 
again and again to her before she departed. She viewed her dying 
daughter with a solemn pleasure, and found herself frequently breath- 
ing " O may my last end be like hers !" The fervent prayers of 
two friends, who called in a little before she fell asleep in Jesus, con- 
tributed much to her comfort. She felt indeed that the cup which 
she had to drink was bitter ; but she was enabled to say with submis- 
sion, " not my will but thine, O God, be done." 



492 MEMOIRS, &C. 

On the following day her earthly remains were attended to the 
place of interment by as large a number of her afflicted and sympa- 
thizing friends as the distressing situation of their families at that time 
would admit. At the grave the thirty first hymn of Dr. Watts's 2d 
book, which she had often repeated during her illness, was sung, 
after which the mourning friends retired to reflect on the solemnities 
of that scene, which had engaged their attention for such a length 
of time. 

Thus lived, and thus died Caroline Elizabeth Smelt. By the ex- 
ercise of the numerous amiable qualities which she possessed, she 
had endeared herself to an extensive circle of friends of all ages, 
sexes, and ranks in life. It is asserted that she was never seen to 
be in a passion, although her disposition has been visibly tried. She 
was affectionate, meek, dutiful, and modest. She has been seen to 
be displeased, and to suffer momentary mortification ; but never al- 
lowed herself to utter an indelicate, harsh, or hasty expression. 
She possessed great independence of principle, and would support 
her opinions with great firmness and propriety ; but, if convinced of 
error, would never hesitate to retract and acknowledge it. To ser- 
vants she was particularly mild ; and as she made her request to 
those of her father's household with the utmost softness, they always 
served her with the greatest alacrity. When they did so, she would 
often thank them as politely as if she had had no claim to their obedi- 
ene. When they disobliged her, she was always ready to frame and of- 
fer an apology for them. She would say, " prehaps it proceeds from 
forgetfulness. — I know I am too thoughtless myself, and omit many 
important duties ; and why should I condemn, in those poor, ignorant 
beings, faults that are less than my own." 

In a word, reverence towards God, and filial submission and re- 
spect towards her parents — affability and benevolence towards all 
with whom she was acquainted, seem to have been united in her 
temper and practice through life, and "in her death they were not 
divided, 11 

From the Memoirs of Miss Smelt, by the Rev. Moses Waddel, D. D, 



493 



MRS. SUSAN POOR, 



Of the birth and education of Mrs. Poor, we have been unable 
to procure any account. In the year 1816, she proceeded with her 
husband, the Rev. Daniel Poor, an ordained missionary of the 
American Board, to Tillipally in the island of Ceylon, which con- 
tinued her residence, and the scene of her missionary labors till her 
death, in 1821. The following affecting and instructive account of 
her death is from a communication of her husband to the secretary 
of the American Board. 

Mrs. Poor's last illness commenced on Monday evening, the 23d 
of April. On Tuesday evening, Mr. and Mrs. Spaulding came to 
our assistance and continued with us. As Mrs. Poor continued ill, 
and medical advice appeared necessary, we sent, on Wednesday 
morning, for Dr. Scudder. On his arrival, he found that her symp- 
toms were in some degree alarming. Powerful remedies were used 
for several days without any favorable issue. During this time she 
was affected with severe pain. Her mind, as appeared from the 
frequent recital of passages of Scripture, and of parts of hymns 
adapted to her suffering state, was turned to God and divine subjects. 

On Thursday, A. M. in consequence of some unusual sensations 
of body, and more especially of some peculiar exercises of her mind 
that morning, she apprehended that the time of her departure was 
at hand. Under this impression, she began to address me. Having 
freely spoken of the strong consolations God had given her, she 
stated to me the views and feelings she had recently had, concern- 
ing the family and station. 

" I have been enabled," said she, " this morning, to make a for- 
mal and entire surrender of husband and children, and of all the 
affairs of the station into the hands of God. The strong desires, 
which I have heretofore had, for continuing a few years longer, have 
been so entirely taken away, that even my beloved husband and 
children cease to be ties that bind me to the earth. Every cord is 
now broken. This is a victory that I scarcely dared to hope for, 
and it is to my mind, a sure indication that I shall not long be con- 
tinued with you." 

She then spoke of our past intercourse with each other, — and of 
God's gracious dealings with us since we were united, especially in 
the work of the mission ; and expressed a confident belief, that God 
would be with me, and comfort me, in my solitary state, and bless 
ny labors among the heathen. She appeared to take firm hold oi 
promises, respecting the children of believers. She expressed 



494 MEMOIRS OF 

strong confidence in the belief, that, though her children were left 
motherless in a land of idolaters, God would be their Protector, and 
would raise up such friends as were necessary to watch over them. 
She urged the propriety of this belief, from the views she entertain- 
ed of that covenent, which is well ordered in all things and sure, and 
which she thought had been established with our house. 

She expressed her thoughts concerning God's designs of mercy 
towards the heathen. The substance of her remarks on this subject 
was, that in view of what he had already done, and of the present 
indications of his Providence, she believed he would soon come 
down by his Spirit, like rain upon the mown grass, and gather a peo- , 
pie to the praise of the glory of his grace. 

The earnest and confident manner in which she spoke on the two 
last mentioned subjects, was new and unexpected. Formerly, the 
idea of leaving her children, in this land of moral darkness, was ex- 
tremely painful to her. Although she had been abundant in her 
labors and fervent in her prayers to promote the salvation of the hea- 
then, she was ever fearful and doubtful, as to what God would do 
for those of the present generation; but now her language was that 
of triumphant hope, and joyful anticipation. 

As we assured her, that she had no reason to apprehend an im- 
mediate departure, she did not proceed to particulars ; but observed, 
that what she had to say or do must be done before the hour of death 
came, as she could not expect then to be able to say any thing. It 
was rather unpleasant to her to know, that she only was of the opinion 
that the hour of death was near. 

She continued in a quiet state of mind, speaking often of the great 
goodness of God, in entirely weaning her affections from her family, 
and in giving her strong desires to depart and be with Christ. 

" For some weeks past," said she, " I have dwelt with much in- 
terest upon the word Immanuel, as applied to Christ. But within 
a few days my thoughts have turned to him with peculiar delight, as 
bearing the name Jesus." She many times quoted the passage, 
And his name shall be called Jesus, for he shall save his people from 
their sins. 

On reviewing her conduct for several months previous to her late 
illness, I can now discover many reasons for believing that the Lord 
was, in a special manner, preparing her by his grace for this season 
of trial. One of the many circumstances to which I here refer, 
was, that several weeks before her death, she proposed that we 
should regard every Friday, as a season of special prayer. 

As I stood by her bed side with a Bible in my hand, while she lay 
in a suffering state, she took the Bible, and directed me to the 118th 
Psalm, 14th verse and onward, as expressing her feelings. Many 
times, in the course of the day, she required those present to unite 
in prayer and thanksgiving to God on her account. In the afternoon 
we were happy to welcome Mr. Richards and Mrs. Scudder. 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 495 

Friday, P. M. we continued the active use of powerful medicines 
with much hope of her recovery. Her corporeal sufferings were 
great, arising from spasms of the stomach. Her mind was tranquil, 
and she had a strong desire to hear appropriate portions of Scrip- 
ture. Most of the twenty-ninth chapter of Doddridge's Rise and 
Progress was read to her. It afforded her much pleasure, as it ac- 
corded with her own experience. About 4 o'clock, an unfavorable 
change took place, which she considered a sure indication of the 
approach of death, and a special call to her to set her house in 
order. 

At this time, Dr. Scudder was absent, having been called to 
Manepy, to attend Mr. Woodward. Mr. Richards, though in some 
degree alarmed by the change to which I have here alluded, did not 
express to us his fears. Mrs. Poor, after speaking of the quietude 
and peace of mind she felt, began to address me as from the bor- 
ders of the eternal state. She repeated, with some additions, the 
same sentiments she had expressed on the morning of the preceding 
day. She commended me to the kindness of the brethren and sis- 
ters of the mission, and to God, — and rejoiced in the prospect of our 
being soon united in the mansions above. 

She then spoke of her own life and conduct ; of her numerous 
offenses ; how unfaithfully she had served her God and Savior; and 
how undeserving she was of the numerous blessings he had bestow- 
ed upon her ; but that, notwithstanding her guilt and unworthiness, 
she indulged confident hopes of pardon and acceptance with God 7 
through the blood of Christ. She expressed a lively sense of God's 
goodness in manifesting himself to her in a special manner, at this 
hour of extremity ; in his taking away the sting of death ; in giving 
her peace of mind : and in filling her soul with precious foretastes of 
the joys of heaven. It did indeed appear, from her observations? 
especially from the manner in which they were made, that her fel- 
lowship was with the Father and with the Son Jesus Christ. She 
begged us to be faithful with her in that critical hour, if we perceiv- 
ed that she was in danger of deceiving herself. 

After a short interval, she spoke of those dear babes she was 
about to leave. She adverted, with expressions of gratitude, to the 
exercises of her mind concerning them, on the preceding day, and 
observed, that she had committed them into the hands of God, and 
had no desire to see them again. She then pointed out the good 
and bad qualities of each of them ; commended them to the kind 
care of the sisters present; and intreated them to bear with their 
defects, and to watch over them while they continued in this heathen 
land, adding, " God will reward you for all you do for them." She 
told with what feelings she had desired a son, and what were her 
hopes concerning him ; viz. that he might perpetuate his father's 
name ; that he might early become a child of God, a preacher of 
the Gospel, and a helper in the mission. 



496 



MEMOIRS OF 



She then addressed the brethren and sisters present, and sent 
messages to some who were absent. She observed, that she had a 
good hope that they were all the dear children of God, that she 
had a love for them all ; and left them with the expectation of being 
united with them in the world to come. She pointed out some par- 
ticulars wherein she thought, that, as a body of missionaries, or a 
church of Christ, we had all been deficient in duty toward each 
other. She advised to the use of some special means for watching 
over each other's souls, and for promoting the growth of divine grace 
in the heart. She urged the importance of our making it one dis- 
tinct object of pursuit, to grow in the knowledge of the word of God, 
This she did, in view of what she considered to be her own neglect 
of this duty, and of her present convictions of its importance. 

She then spoke of her father, brothers, and sisters, and of many 
dear friends in America, to several of whom she sent particular mes- 
sages, and requested me to write to them. 

I observed to her, that, as some of her friends were opposed to 
her engaging in the work of the mission, they might wish to know 
how she viewed the subject at the last. " What they said by way of 
opposing," she observed, " was mere talk. Their objections arose 
principally from their unwillingness to part with me." Shortly after 
she said, " But in answer to what you have suggested, you well 
know that I have no enthusiastic notions on the subject. I had no 
expectations of doing great things. On the contrary, my expecta- 
tions were low, though I wished to do what I could. I think the 
opportunities for a female's usefulness here should be considered as on 
a level with those enjoyed in America. Many females there move 
in a more important sphere than they could in a heathen land. I 
never should have thought that I had any duty to do among the hea- 
then, had you not invited me to come. I am satisfied with the 
course I pursued." For several years past she has often expressed 
the idea, that she did not originally expect to do more, or to see more 
accomplished in the furtherance of the object of this mission, than 
she had already witnessed. Several months ago, when we were en- 
deavoring to establish Tuesday schools for females, in villages near 
the station, and when it was in contemplation to admit several per- 
sons, the first fruits from the heathen in this place, to the ordinance 
of Baptism, and the Lord's supper, she observed, " that if she saw 
these two objects accomplished, she should be ready to say with 
Simeon, Now lettest thou, fyc. She witnessed the latter the day be- 
fore her last sickness commenced. The schools had been previously 
established. 

During the time of her remarks on the subjects abovementioned, 
she was more free from pain than she had been for several days be- 
fore. Her mind was composed and active as usual ; though on ac- 
count of her weakness of body, she was obliged often to desist from 
speaking and to take cordials* 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 497 

After lying quiet for some time, she requested me to bring from 
her writing desk, her covenant, which she wished to have read. 
This paper, I discovered, for the first time, a few weeks previous to 
her last illness. It contains a formal dedication of herself to God, 
and an enumeration of the blessings she wished him to bestow 
upon her. Having read the covenant, she observed, " The Lord 
has been faithful on his part : he has done all things well ; but I 
have been unfaithful ; I have many times broken my engagements ; 
I have forfeited all claim to the blessings of the covenant ; yet it is 
a covenant well ordered in all things and sure." " Yes," said she, 
(repeating the words of the covenant,) " He does look down with 
pity upon his languishing, dying child ; he does embrace me in his 
everlasting arms, &c." The date of this paper is Salem, January 
11th, 1811. 

Towards evening Dr. Scudder returned from Manepy, in compa- 
ny with Mrs. Winslow. The brethren Scudder and Richards 
thought it their duty to inform us, that they could indulge little or no 
hope of her recovery. She received the information with a smile, 
observing that " it was a confirmation of her own opinion." A new 
excitement appeared to be given to her mind. " Now," said she, 
" I think I can see my children once more ; where are they ?" Af- 
ter they were called in, she gave each of them a parting embrace 
and kiss, and made some observations similar to those already re- 
lated. She then commended them to God, in a fervent prayer, 
beginning with " Lord Jesus, receive these Lambs, he. In this 
prayer she expressed much confidence in the belief that God would 
not forsake them. 

She then expressed a wish to have the servants called around her. 
As this occasioned some alarm, the native boys and girls connected 
with the family hastily entered, and filled the room. Addressing the 
servants in their own language, she told them that she should soon 
leave them. She reminded them of what she had often said to 
them, concerning their souls, and exhorted them to prepare for 
death, by turning from their idols, and by repentance and faith in 
Christ the only Savior. She spoke to the native school girls to the 
same effect. Then taking Nicholas, my native assistant, by the 
hand, she addressed him as a brother of the church ; — pointed out 
his duty and obligations to the heathen, and exhorted him to do what 
he could to aid me in the work of the mission. Afterwards she took 
Niles and Jordan by the hand, (two native boys who joined the 
church on the preceding Sabbath,) and addressed them in Tamul as 
her children, and as babes in Christ ; solemnly warned them against 
drawing back ; encouraged them to persevere ; and expressed a hope 
that she should meet them at the right hand of Christ. Both of 
them were deeply affected. The other boys appeared desirous of 
taking her hand ; but as she was then quite exhausted, she told 
Nicholas, to go and address them in her name. She again expres- 

63 



498 MEMOIRS OF 

sed her belief, in strong terms, that God would soon visit the heathen 
in mercy. She prayed fervently for their salvation and for the pros- 
perity of Zion. 

Soon after, in the course of the evening, she gave many directions 
concerning the temporal affairs of the family and station. Her 
mind continued to be in a sweet and heavenly frame. Frequently 
she would abruptly exclaim, " What a wonder, what a wonder, what 
a wonder ! that even I should have such joy and peace at this hour. 
It is more than I prayed for. I can say with brother Warren,* " Is 
this death?" Yes, this is death. O that was a good exhortation 
which he sent to us, ' Be ye faithful unto death.' But I do not see 
the kind angel, whom he saw. Yet I can trust in Jesus." 

On being raised up in bed to take some refreshing drink ; " My 
Master," said she, " in his last extremity, had gall and vinegar to 
drink ; he was forsaken by his friends, and even by his heavenly 
Father ; but I have every comfort, am surrounded by beloved breth- 
ren and sisters," [here she embraced them,] " and have the light of 
God's countenance. Oh, he graciously smooths the way through the 
dark valley." 

She was more free from pain during the night, and had more quiet 
sleep than she had enjoyed for four days previously. Whenever she 
awoke from a short season of repose, she spoke as one very near 
the heavenly state. She often repeated some parts of " The dying 
Christian." Once on waking she whispered with much emphasis, 
" Lend, lend your wings." 

At midnight we thought her departing, and called the brethren and 
sisters to witness the solemn scene. Her pulse nearly cased to beat. 
She however revived, and appeared to have a little more strength. 

During the night she had an unusual degree of tenderness and 
sweetness of spirit. She continually expressed a lively sense of 
gratitude towards every one who rendered her the least assistance, 
and toward God for providing for her such friends. She was also 
tenderly alive to the danger of sinning. When she suddenly moved 
herself in bed, or declined any thing that was offered her, she would 
often say, " I hope this is not sin ; tell me when I am in danger of 
doing wrong ; help me to keep from sinning." 

On Saturday morning about ten o'clock, Mr. Chater, Baptist mis- 
sionary from Columbo, who has kindly favored us with a visit of sev- 
eral weeks at our stations, — came to Tillipally. Immediately on his 
arrival, she requested, as was her practice when Christian friends 
came, to unite with him in prayer and thanksgiving. As Mr. Chater 
was about to lead in prayer, she requested us to sing the hymn, 

" Jesus with all thy saints above," &c. 

in the tune of Arlington, At this time many of the natives, having 
heard of her dangerous illness, had assembled around the house. 

* The Rev. Edward Warren, Missionary in Ceylon, who died there a short time 

before. 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 499 

After we had sung a part of the first verse, Mrs. P., to the astonish- 
ment of all, joined with much elevation of spirit in singing. Though 
her voice was tremulous and weak, it was as loud as usual, and to 
our ears much more melodious. It appeared that every strain must 
be the last effort she could possibly make. She, however, continued 
through the hymn, and sung the last verse with more animation than 
the preceding. The last line of the hymn is, 

" Or saints to feel his grace." 

Her mind appeared to fasten upon the last word, which she protract- 
ed a little in singing, and then exclaimed. " O to grace how great 
a debtor," — " do sing." But here she sunk down, being quite ex- 
hausted. We, who commenced the singing, were so deeply affect- 
ed, by the scene before us, that several times no voice of the com- 
pany was heard but that of Mrs. Poor. 

The circumstance of our singing induced the natives to crowd into 
the house, and about the windows. They also were deeply affected, 
and it was a season of weeping to all present. We, who knew her 
case, wept for joy ; others, many of them no doubt, by the power of 
sympathy, and in consequence of the strangeness of the scene. As 
we were about to kneel down by her bed side. Mr. Chater observ- 
ed, " Let us not pray but praise" He then gave most hearty thanks 
to God, for the special manifestations of his grace to his dying child, 
in which she evidently joined with great delight. When he gave 
thanks to God for giving her the victory, she interrupted him, saying, 
" I have much for which to praise him, but the victory is not yet com- 
plete. I am still on the enemy's ground, and we must watch unto 
prayer." Afterward, when he gave thanks that Christ appeared to 
be present to take his handmaid home, she, with much feeling and 
many tears said, " But I can't see him ; is he here ? Why then do 
I not see him ?" Several times afterward she observed, " I can't see 
him," meaning that she could not see Christ with her bodily eyes. 
On being told, that she could not expect to have such a view of him. 
She quickly replied, " But do you not believe that our dear brother 
Warren saw Christ, when he said, " O thou kind angel, conduct me, 
conduct me." " " We cannot say," said brother Richards, " that he 
saw any thing with his mortal eyes." " O yes," said she, " he did, 
I fully believe it." After a little reflection, she seemed to doubt the 
propriety of expecting any thing like a vision. Though she seemed 
to triumph in hope, she several times complained that the tempter 
was present, and that he suggested evil thoughts to her mind, against 
which she frequently called upon the brethren to pray. 

Previously to Mr. Chater's arrival, (as I should have before men- 
tioned,) Mr. Winslow came. When Mrs. Poor requested him to 
pray, she said, she had petitions for him to offer on her account; one 
of which was, that she might have an easy departure ; the other, that 
God would leave a blessing behind her. She afterwards requested 
him to find and read to her the psalm, which contains the words, 



500 MEMOIRS OF 

"Yet in the midst of grief and death." [See Psalm 103, L. M. 
first part.] 

About eleven o'clock, Mr. Meigs, and Mr. Knight, Church Mis- 
sionary from Nellore, came to see us. After leading in prayer, at 
her request, we sung the hymn, 

" And let this feeble body fail, 
And let it faint and die," &c. 

in the tune of St. PauVs. Mrs. Poor's feelings strongly prompted 
her to join in singing, which she several times attempted to do, but 
her strength would not permit. At twelve o'clock we thought her 
departing ; but she again revived, and at four o'clock P. M. her 
symptoms in a most important respect, became more favorable. We 
had a gleam of hope that she would be spared to us. When she 
understood that this was her case, she expressed by her countenance 
much disappointment, and regret; but soon observed, that she had 
given herself to the Lord, and would endeavor to be resigned to his 
will. She did not, however, herself believe, that she should be 
brought back again to the world. 

In the evening our kind friend, Mr. Mooyart, came, to whom she 
made several remarks expressive of the joyful state of her mind, in 
prospect of a speedy departure. 

In order to prevent repetition, and to give some just idea of Mrs. 
Poor's case, it may be observed that, during almost the whole season 
of her illness, her bodily sufferings were great. It rarely happens 
that a sick person requires so great and constant attention as she re- 
quired. Four watchers, besides native attendants, were requisite 
every night. Two were needed at a time, but could not, without 
much inconvenience to themselves, sit more than five or six hours at 
once. It also rarely happens, that it is practicable for a sick person 
to be so constantly attended by so many beloved brethren and sisters, 
as were with her on this occasion. The means of contributing to 
her comfort were in proportion to her wants. Two skilful physicians 
belonging to our own mission were almost constantly with her ; and 
many articles of bedding and clothing, which were greatly needed, 
were furnished from our several stations. Nor were her spiritual 
necessities less numerous, or less abundantly supplied. She needed 
to be fed almost constantly with the milk of the Word, — with the 
bread and water of life. She very frequently spoke to herself, to 
those around her, and to God, in psalms and hymns and spiritual 
songs, — and requested those present to read to her select portions of 
the word of God, to which she directed. Her mind never appeared 
to be more active and energetic. She spoke freely on a great variety 
of subjects, ana" her remarks, though often in a whisper, were em- 
phatic and impressive. 

On Sabbath morn she observed, " This is a delightful day. I 
think I shall go to day, and that my everlasting Sabbath will begin." 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 501 

After lying some time in a low and sinking state, she exclaimed, with 
much expression of feeling, " Now I see my Jesus." Do you see 
him, said I? "O yes, — all bright and glorious ;" and then repeated, 
" all bright and glorious." She then covered her eyes and said, 
" O keep me from beholding these earthly things. I wish to see 
only spiritual objects." After a little repose, " Perfect love," said 
she, " casteth out fear. I have not perfect love, and yet fear is 
almost, and sometimes quite cast out." 

In the course of the forenoon, she spoke Tamul with the native 
female servants around her, and said, " I am now going, I am very 
happy, I am going to be with Jesus. You also must prepare to die. 
If you would die happy, you must receive Jesus." Other remarks 
she made of a similar nature. • 

Shortly after this, on hearing a clap of thunder, she observed, 
" sweet sound." Soon after, being a little agitated in mind, " O, 
that day ;" — then appeared to be in pain to express something, but 
said, faintly, " can't think, — can't take in the idea." But immediate- 
ly exclaimed, "Glory, glory, I see him; — his chariot wheels, how 
bright they are." She was quiet a few minutes, and then repeated 
several times with a low tone of voice, but with much emphasis, " How 
bright and glorious." A few hours after, having watched for a favor- 
able opportunity, I asked what she saw, when she uttered the ex- 
pressions which I have here noticed. She replied, that she had a 
distinct view of a part of the train of the Son of God, coming in 
the clouds of heaven to judge the world, agreeably to the description 
of that event in the word of God. 

After being a little refreshed by taking some wine, she repeated, 
or rather adopted as her own, most of the Apostle's prayer in Ephe- 
sians iii, 16, he. Strengthen me with might, by thy Spirit, fyc. fyc. 
then forcibly added, " Strengthen me, O Lord, by thy word, — thine 
own precious word, — that blessed word, which this people despise, 
but in which thou hast caused thy servant to hope." On her waking 
from sleep, I asked her whether she still kept her bold on Jesus ? 
" O yes," said she, " I have a sweet frame. I think it will be con- 
tinued to the end. It appears but a very little way across the river." 
In the afternoon she expressed some fears, lest the servants and the 
people around her, would not distinguish between her cries occasion- 
ed by bodily distress, and her singing, which was expressive of the joys 
of her mind. She requested me to call them and explain the sub- 
ject, and to give them a word of exhortation, such as the occasion 
suggested. Soon after, eight or ten women, with whom she had 
been much acquainted, came to see her. She often expressed the 
gratification she felt on being able to converse with the natives who 
visited her, in their own language. They expressed much surprise, 
that we were so quiet and cheerful. It is their practice on such oc- 
casions, to roll, beat themselves, and scream aloud. The reasons of 
our being peaceful and quiet in such trials were fully explained by 



502 MEMOIRS OP 

Mr. Chater, who preached in the church from 1 Thess. iv, 13. But 
1 would not have you to be ignorant, fyc. 

As we hourly expected the coming of the Lord to take his hand- 
maid home, we had special prayer several times in the day, that 
while present on such an occasion, he would scatter some spiritual 
blessings around, and thus leave abiding evidence, that he had been 
in a special manner with us. In the evening, Mr. Mooyart came into 
the room, and asked her if she still trusted in Christ. li l am rest- 
ing," said she, " In his arms.-— Some sinful thoughts ; — much bodily 
distress." Several times, in the course of the day and evening, she 
observed faintly, " Why this lingering — why this lingering—hush — - 
patience, patience." 

Her corporal sufferings greatly increased. She seemed, however, 
to have remarkably clear and lively views of divine truth. About 12 
o'clock at night, while lying in a state of extreme suffering, almost in- 
sensible to every thing around her, she broke out with a loud voice in 
a long prayer. She began by praying that the Lord would show her 
wherefore he contended with her. " Has not Jesus suffered enough ? 
Why then should I thus suffer ? O Lord, look down upon thy lan- 
guishing, dying child. But if it be necessary for me to be conform- 
ed to my suffering Savior, O Lord, grant me patience to endure it. 
I fly to thee, O my beloved. ' Other refuge have I none.' I seek 
no other. I have sought no other. Thou art my beloved. Otake 
me from this suffering state. Receive me to those mansions of peace, 
and joy, where the Father dwelleth ; where the Son dwelleth ; where 
the Holy Ghost dwelleth ; where the four and twenty elders dwell ; 
where with united heart and voice they sing, " Unto him that loved 
us, and washed us in his own blood, fyc." These were but a part 
of her expressions. 

As this prayer, which was heard in every apartment of the house, 
was evidently occasioned by great bodily distress, and was the lan- 
guage of an overcoming faith and triumphant hope, it produced im- 
pressions upon our minds unusually solemn, that God was present 
both to afflict and to console. Soon after, she was almost entirely 
relieved from her distress, and slept quietly till morning. 

Monday — She lay in a weak and languishing state, having a de- 
sire to depart. It appeared from her occasional remarks, and quo- 
tations from Scripture, that her thoughts were directed with interest 
to divine subjects, particularly to the doctrine of the resurrection, 
Several time, during her sickness, she repeated the verse, 

"Corruption, earth, and worms 
Shall but refine this flesh, 
Till my triumphant spirit comes 
To put it on afresh." 

About one o'clock P. M. she roused from a slumbering state, and 
appeared to have an unusual degree of vigor, both of body and mind. 
She requested me to read to her from the Word of God. I (old 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 503 

her, she doubtless recollected the rich provision for passing Jordan, 
which Mrs. Graham made, and that I would read those extracts from 
Scripture, which are contained in her life. She was pleased with 
the proposal ; and as I read and paused at short intervals, she mado 
many short but striking comments upon the passages read. Her re- 
marks at this time, were indicative of a mind exquisitely alive to 
perceive the moral beauty, and to feel the supreme importance, of 
divine truth. Those passages which most clearly brought to view 
the atoning sacrifice for sin, by the blood of Christ, attracted her at- 
tention with the deepest interest. She regarded them as the foun- 
dation stones of that building, in which she had taken refuge and in 
which she could quietly rest, even in view of the great day of the 
wrath of the Lamb. 

In the course of this reading and conversation, which continued 
some hours, "We all are, I think," said she, " deficient in our thanks- 
giving to God, in not particularly remembering those exhibitions of 
his character, which were made in his devising and commencing the 
wonderful plan of redemption. We appear to regard it as a thing 
of course, and to have our thoughts occupied mainly with the con- 
sequences of the plan." From her remarks on this subject, it would 
seem, that in her reflections she carried her mind back to that aw- 
fully interesting period, when God displayed his justice in the ever- 
lasting destruction of the fallen angels, and then started the question^ 
What shall be done to the rebellious race of man ? The proceedings 
of Jehovah at that time ought to be particularly remembered, she 
thought, in our seasons of praise and thanksgiving. She repeatedly 
requested us to sing. 

After I had read nearly all the extracts from Scripture, which 
Mrs. Graham made, Mrs. Poor observed, "Brethren, do again ex- 
amine me. For is it not possible that I may be under a mistake ? 
I wish you to repeat what you consider real evidences of grace, or 
proper qualifications for heaven." As she and I had recently read 
Dr. Dwight's Sermons on the evidences of regeneration, I followed 
nearly his order, in bringing to her view the evidences she wished to 
hear stated. As they were proposed to her one by one, she with 
great discrimination, as in the light of eternity, and tremblingly alive 
to the danger of being deceived, applied them to herself, and drew 
the conclusion, often with confidence, in her own favor. The follow- 
ing is a specimen of the manner in which she treated this subject : — - 

" Love to the brethren," said I, " is another evidence much in- 
sisted on by the inspired writers." " Here," said she, " I must 
think. I cannot say, that I have loved all who are in reality the 
disciples of Christ. I can conceive that the image of Christ may 
often be obscured in a real Christian ; or owing, it may be, to some 
fault in us, perhaps for the want of proper knowledge or intercourse, 
we may not clearly see the image which really exists. But examin- 
ing myself on this point, I can with confidence say, that I have con- 



504 MEMOIRS OF 

sidered the saints to be the excellent of the earth; and that in them 
has been all my delight ; and that those in whom I have seen the 
brightest evidences of piety, have been the friends dearest to my 
heart." 

I then asked her, whether she could adopt the language of the 
Psalmist, Whom have 1 in heaven but thee, fyc. " Here," said she, 
" I cannot doubt." She then repeated those words in the form of 
an address, or rather as an appeal to God. It may be considered 
some proof of her sincerity to observe, that several times during 
her sickness, when perfectly quiet, both in body and mind, she ob- 
served, " Much as I have loved, and do still love, my dear husband 
and children, 1 wish to remain with them no longer." As I was re- 
moving her from one bed to another, she gave me a kiss, and ob- 
served with an affectionate but solemn tone of voice, " I wish to be 
in your arms no more, but to rest in the arms of my Savior." Her 
mind often turned with much interest to the subject of our being re- 
united in the worship and service of God above. 

After remaining quiet for a short time, she said, " I have a great 
degree of calmness and peace of mind, but no ecstacies. Did he 
promise to give ecstacies in this hour? I feel that I am near heaven." 
She many times observed, with expressions of gratitude, that God 
had abundantly answered the many prayers which had been offered 
on her account ; that he had relieved her from her bodily distress ; 
and had given her joy and peace in believing. 

In the evening, George Kock, a young man from Jaffna, who had 
formerly resided in the family for some years, came to see Mrs. Poor. 
She gave him her hand, and expressed some pleasure on seeing him. 
He said, that he wished to improve the opportunity of expressing his 
obligations to her, for all she did for him while residing in the family; 
and said that he now indulged the hope, that he knew something of 
the preciousness of that Savior whom she so often and earnestly 
urged him to seek. She then exhorted him to beware of self-decep- 
tion — to be watchful, humble, and persevering. When he expressed 
his many obligations to her, she replied, "If you think you owe me 
any thing, pay it to the heathen;" and then said, with more empha- 
sis, " If any think they owe me any thing, let them pay it to the 
heathen." 

Between nine and ten o'clock, both Mrs. P. and all present, 
thought she was about to depart. Her whole deportment was that 
of a person held between this and the heavenly state. " Last Sab- 
bath," she observed, (meaning the Sabbath preceding the last, when 
the first fruits from the heathen in this place were received into the 
church,) " With desire I desired to eat the passover once more, and 
God permitted me to do it. I thought it would be the last time. I 
wish now to have a glass of wine with you, and to take my leave of 
you all." As she repeatedly made this request, we improved the 
first favorable opportunity. The brethren and sisters present, being 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 505 

seven in number, besides myself, stood around her bed, and brother 
Richards invoked a blessing. Being then raised up, by several per- 
sons, she took the glass, and said, " This wine, emblematical of that 
blood which was shed for the remission of sins, even my sins, I now 
share with you for the last time, till we meet in our Father's king- 
dom." After her, each of the brethren and sisters drank, and ex- 
changed with her the parting kiss. As she embraced us, she invoked 
a blessing upon each, or made some pertinent remark by way of ex- 
hortation. Perceiving that she was failing, we were obliged to has- 
ten. Her last words at this time, and which we thought would be 
the last she would utter, were "thanks for all, — thanks for all." She 
then lay for some lime unable to speak. Soon after she revived a 
little, and it being between twelve and one o'clock, most of the com- 
pany retired to rest. Mrs. Poor became more wakeful, and was 
much inclined to converse. Her conversation and whole deport- 
ment were unusually interesting. On seeing some one eating grapes, 
she asked, whether she might be permitted to taste one. A cluster 
was then brought, from which she took some. "Do you know," we 
inquired, "of what you should be reminded by these clusters?" "O 
yes," she replied, nodding her head and smiling. "Well of what?" 
said Mr. Richards. After a short pause, she said, "May the Lord 
give you the spirit of Caleb and Joshua. It is your business to search 
out the goodly land, to bring back the clusters, to hold them up to 
the view of the people, and allure them forward to Canaan." "And 
so give them a taste for the fruit ?" " That you can't do," said she, 
"that is God's work." 

This question concerning the grapes, was asked in reference to 
the habit of mind, which in a remarkable manner attended her 
during her sickness, of making use of the objects around her to 
bring to remembrance divine truths. The following are specimens 
of this. 

On being raised up in the night to take medicine in front of a 
window which was open, " Surely, said she, with much solemnity, 
"there is outer darkness, but I think I shall not dwell there." On 
seeing the dry leaves fall from a tree near the house, " That tree, 
whose leaves are for the healing of the nations, shall never wither." 
She was greatly delighted with the frequent small showers of rain 
that fell, as she felt confident that the Lord, ere long, would come 
in like manner, by his Spirit. On hearing a dog howl in the night, 
as she lay apparently asleep, " Without," said she, " are dogs, and 
sorcerers," &ic. On bathing her feet in water, "Soon I shall bathe 
in the pure fountain." On drinking, water, "Shortly, I shall not 
need this, — there will be in me a well of water springing up into 
everlasting life." At another time, " He giveth the water of life." 
Many times, on receiving wine, or other drink, " These are not the 
cordials that I shall soon have." " He will give me more refreshing 
cordials," he. Allusions of this nature were numerous. 

G4 



506 MEMOIRS OF 

1 had no desire for sleep, but sat with her during the night. She 
slept at short intervals. Her mind, when she was awake, was very 
active, both on temporal and spiritual subjects. She conversed with 
great particularity respecting persons and things, and gave many di- 
rections on various subjects. " I think," said she, " I ought to do 
every thing I possibly can do, that may, in any way, tend to promote 
friendship — the welfare of the mission, — or the future comfort of 
my dear husband." She whispered several things to me relative to 
the state of my affairs, after her departure. Several times during 
the night, after settling some small matters, she composed herself to 
rest, saying, " That is all. I have now done with this world ; I 
have done with it. I have nothing more to say." But after laying 
a few moments, " I have one other thought. I have one or two 
things more which I must mention, then I have done." Thus she 
continued speaking on a variety of subjects, during the greater part 
of the night. Once, on waking, she repeated the verse, 

" This life's a dream, an empty show," &c. 

and then added, "I am now dreaming, but soon I shall see realities." 
About four o'clock, (Tuesday,) her pulse nearly ceased to beat, 
and we were again alarmed. A few hours after, being a little re- 
vived, she expressed some surprise on finding herself here on earth, 
with a prospect of continuing even another day. She referred to 
the parting embrace she gave us the preceding evening, and observ- 
ed, " I thought life would go out, before I could take leave of all." 
At morning prayers, we sung the hymn founded on the words of 
Simeon, JYow lettest thou thy servant depart, &c. She joined in 
singing a part of several verses. As I sat by her bed side, and was 
not careful to suppress the rising tear, she gave me a look of sur- 
prise, and said, " But will you faint now? Having witnessed how 
bountifully the Lord has dealt with me, and having yourself experi- 
enced such a special support !" She then observed to brother Rich- 
ards, that as I had had no sleep during the night, my nerves were 
weak, and that I needed some refreshment, which she requested me 
to take. She appeared so deeply to feel that her services were no 
longer necessary, either for the station or for her family, and she had 
such confidence that God would supply every deficiency, that she 
thought the occasion called only for thanksgiving and praise. She 
continued better through the day, and we began to indulge hopes of 
her recovery. I think she observed to me, "The Lord continues 
my life a little, that I may arrange some affairs which will contribute 
to your comfort." At another time, referring to the same subject, 
t: Hezekiah had fifteen years added to his life, that he might settle 
the affairs of his kingdom. Perhaps fifteen days will be added to 
my life, that I may settle my small affairs." She continued quiet 
through the night, and the physicians were active in the use of 
means, with increasing hopes of her restoration. 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 507 

On Wednesday morning she requested us to read the 116th Psalm, 
as being expressive of her feelings in view of God's dealings with 
her. " I can say," said she, " that in reference to my sufferings on 
Sabbath eve, and at some other seasons, the pains of hell got hold 
upon me ; but the Lord was very gracious to my soul." As she 
appeared to be better, most of the brethren and sisters left us. At 
one o'clock, it being our stated season for prayer, she requested us 
to read some of the predictions relative to the rising glory of the 
church ; saying, that her thoughts had been much turned to that 
subject. We read the 60th chapter of Isaiah, in which she appear- 
ed to be deeply interested. 

In the afternoon, she was very weak, — her mind a little disturbed. 
Some indications of delirium excited our fears. She, however, had 
a quiet night, and was in a happy state of mind, though she said but 
little. 

On Thursday morning, her mind was again turned, with deep in- 
terest, to the promises relative to the church. We read, at her re- 
quest, the 52nd chapter of Isaiah, and sung the 23d Psalm, L. M. 
But little alteration appeared in her case during the day. At night 
she was very restless, and most of the time exercised with acute 
pain. 

Friday morning I was waked from sleep by her singing. Per- 
ceiving something peculiar in her voice and manner, I rose up hast- 
ily, and was deeply affected on learning that her singing was the ef- 
fect of delirium. About nine o'clock she was relieved from her dis- 
tress, and was in a most joyful state of mind. The very name of 
Jesus was truly transporting to her soul. He was indeed in her view 
the chief among ten thousand, and altogether lovely. She requested 
me to read some hymns to her, and directed me to those beginning 
with the following lines, and some others. 

God, my Redeemer lives, &c. 

Father, I long, I faint to see, Sac. 

He lives, the great Redeemer lives, &c. 

My God, my life, my love, &c. 

My God, my portion, and my all, &c. 

Afterward she fell into a drowsy state, and thus continued, through 
the day. 

On Saturday morning she had some alarming symptoms. But as 
she was free from pain, and had a little strength, she set about set- 
tling some small affairs, agreeably to the directions she gave when 
she thought herself departing. During her sickness, a silver urn, 
designed for a sacramental vessel, was brought home in an unfinish- 
ed state. She called for that, and gave particular directions how she 
would have it finished. She then told what had induced her to set 
apart money to purchase such an article. " I have often thought," 
said she, " that if we could furnish our own tables as we do, it is 



508 MEMOIRS OF 

wrong that the table of the Lord should appear so mean. I wished 
to have it furnished in a manner suitable for the King. I hope he 
will not despise my offering." The price of the urn will be about 
twenty five dollars. She expressed a wish to attend to several other 
matters, particularly to explain some things relative to the accounts 
of the family and station, that her books might appear fair and intel- 
ligible ; but her want of strength would not permit her to do more 
till Monday. 

P. M. " To-morrow," said she, " will be the Sabbath ; you must 
now leave me, and prepare to meet the people. See that you pro- 
vide for them things new and old." During the night, she was in 
some respects more unwell. Toward morning she had some pecu- 
liarly elevated views of divine things. It was a source of uneasiness 
to her, that she could not keep herself fully awake, to enjoy these 
heavenly views, which, without any effort on her part, appeared to 
break in upon the soul. She spoke with much animation of its be- 
ing a joyful Sabbath, that it very aptly represented that everlasting 
Sabbath of rest, which she expected to enjoy in the New Jerusalem. 
Her mind was much directed to the state of the mission, and to the 
peculiar duties of the brethren and sisters as missionaries. " Though 
I feel myself," said she, " to be a weak woman, I have strong de- 
sires to speak freely with the brethren on the importance of diligence 
and fidelity in the service of Christ among the heathen. I can now 
lay aside every feeling of restraint, and say all that is in my heart." 

She spoke freely with those who were present, and expressed a 
wish to see others who were absent. The substance of her conver- 
sation was to point out in what manner she thought the different tal- 
ents of individuals might be improved to the best advantage in the 
mission, — and in what respect she thought we were in danger of not 
doing all that might be done. 

As our arrangements had been unexpectedly made for brother 
Spaulding to preach in the church, I thought to spend the day with 
Mrs. Poor. But after the conversation to which I have referred, 
" I think," said she, " that no one who has a heart and tongue to 
speak for Christ, should be idle on the Sabbath, and I cannot con- 
sent to your remaining at home with me." Perceiving how she felt 
on the subject, I went out and preached from house to house. On 
my return, between twelve and one o'clock, she inquired with much 
earnestness, " Have you preached the word in faith ? Yo\i can have 
no success without faith." She made similar observations to brother 
Spaulding when he came from the church. She then told me how 
great her joys had been ; — that she never had such a Sabbath be- 
fore. " I can say with brother Warren, I have had as great joys as 
this weak frame could endure. I can now understand what Brain- 
erd means by his strong expressions of devotion to God in all cir- 
cumstances, whether in life or death." Soon after she said, " I 
wish you this afternoon to take a pen and ink, and I will dictate a 



MRS. SUSAN POOR. 509 

few lines to my dear Harriet,* that she may know how bountifully 
the Lord hath dealt with me at the last, in this dark land." Some 
time before this she observed, " Draw near, ye that fear the Lord, 
and I will declare what he hath done for my soul." She several 
times spoke of two bright views, which she had in the forenoon, and 
which she wished me to relate. At this time, i. e. on Sabbath 
noon, our hopes of her recovery were stronger than they had been 
for nine days previously. The tone of her stomach, the disordered 
state of which had been one principal cause of her sufferings, was 
so far restored to its natural state, that she ate with good relish a 
piece of roasted mutton. 

I am here reminded of some observations she made after we be- 
gan to indulge more favorable hopes concerning her. " I think," 
said she " I may have occasion to say Benoni, before I depart ; and 
the Lord appears to be saying, " Arise and eat, because the journey 
is too great for thee." (See Gen. xxxv. 18, and 1 Kings xix. 4 — 8.) 

As brother Richards was about to take leave of us, some unfa- 
vorable symptoms appeared in Mrs. P.'s case. It was soon evident 
that our fears were well founded. Such was the nature of her case, 
that we were obliged to consider her present symptoms a sure prelude 
to a speedy departure. On being told, that she could expect to con- 
tinue but a few hours, it was evident the information afforded her 
much pleasure. She appeared to gird on anew the armor of God, 
and to put herself in a waiting posture for the coming of her Lord. 
At intervals she conversed with freedom. In her observations she 
manifested a great degree of tenderness and affection for those around 
her. When speaking with me of the many worldly cares in which 1 
might be involved after her decease, she quieted herself by saying, 
" But I think you will not be called to leave the preaching of the 
Gospel to serve tables. The Lord will, I trust, raise up some 
deacon to relieve you." As she had made it one principal object of 
her life, to stand between me and those cares which did not imme- 
diately relate to giving instruction to the people, she well knew how 
great was the burden which would devolve upon me in consequence 
of her departure. The success of the Gospel among the heathen 
was a subject which continued to engage her attention with much in- 
terest. She several times observed, that as she had something fur- 
ther to say, which might affect our mission, she hoped to continue 
another day. She expressed a wish to see the brethren and sisters 
once more, especially some of those who had not been able to be 
with her during her sickness. Her whole appearance was very dif- 
ferent from what it had been before on such occasions. 



* Mrs. Putnam, wife of Rev. J. W. Putnam of Portsmouth. This lady died 
he triumph of Christian faith, in the summer of 1832. 



610 MEMOIRS OF 

About nine o'clock, the brethren, Scudder and Winslow, came. 
Between one and two o'clock on Monday morn, after Mrs. Poor had 
slept a short time, we made several unsuccessful attempts to arouse 
her. From her manner of breathing, we thought she must soon 
sleep the sleep of death. After we succeeded in awaking her, she 
appeared to have something of great importance to communicate to 
to us. She spoke, as nearly as can be recollected, in the following 
manner : — " Brother Richards, you have been very near the eternal 
world ; but not so near as I have. I know things which none of 
you know. I do think I shall not depart till I have been permit- 
ted to relate what I have seen. Mr. Tennent was permitted to do 
this. The Apostle Paul also ; whether in the body or out, I know 
not. Who are present to be the witnesses of what I relate ?" She 
then requested us to call over the names of those present. She at 
the same time noticed how many there were, and wished to know 
who of our number were absent. It appeared from some of her 
remarks at this time, that her mind was in a wandering state. When 
however, she was by any means diverted from this subject, she 
would immediately return to it again with interest. She several 
times, requested, that we would bring a pen and ink ; but we as- 
sured her we could well remember all she had to say. After speak- 
ing for sometime on the subject in an incoherent manner, respecting 
some things before mentioned, she observed with much emphasis, — 
" but I must go on to relate : — and first, there is an immortal state." 
She repeated this several times ; but appearing to find it extremely 
difficult to confine her thoughts on any subject, she soon fell asleep. 

A few hours after this she was more wakeful, more restless in 
body, and less in possession of her reason. She had, however, sev- 
eral short seasons of quietude, in which she expressed her confidence 
in Christ, and requested to join with us in prayer. 

As we stood watching her symptoms, — " a steward, "said she, 
" should be just in small matters, as well in those of more import- 
ance." She then called for some cloth which had been recently 
purchased, and told what part she had charged to the boarding 
school, and what to the lamily. She also made a present of cloth 
to a native female servant, who had faithfully attended her in her 
sickness. 

As she lay quietly upon her bed, she suddenly exclaimed, " The 
tempter is here ! I feel that he is here !" I told her we would 
unite in prayer, and that he would flee at the name of Jesus. Many 
times during her sickness she spoke of the importance of praying 
against the intrusion of the tempter ; not that she feared being over- 
come by him ; but because he suggested sinful thoughts to her mind. 

While we were engaged in prayer at this time, she broke out with 
a triumphant tone of voice, " Glory be to God the Father, — to God 
—the Father,— to God the Holy Ghost !" She then lay quiet for 
some minutes and said again.. " the tempter is here !" We again 



MRS. SUSAN POOR- 511 

united in prayer, but soon found, that she was unable to speak or to 
hear what we said to her. She breathed shorter and shorter, and in 
the course of fifteen minutes quietly fell asleep in Jesus. This 
event took place on the 7th of May, a kw minutes before seven 
o'clock, A. M. 

At six o'clock in the evening we interred her remains in a spot of 
ground near the church. The missionaries in the district, who had 
assembled at Batticotta to observe the monthly prayer meeting, were 
present at the funeral. On the following Monday evening, brother 
Chater preached an occasional sermon at Jaffna, in the Wesleyan 
Chapel, from Psalm cxvi, 15. . Precious in the sight of the Lord 
is the death of his saints. 

From the Missionary Herald, Vol. 18.— 1822. 



512 



MRS. ELIZABETH DOLiSON. 



Elizabeth Ridley, (this was her maiden name) was born of 
respectable parents in Detroit, 1st of January 1785. Her father 
was an English merchant, but dying when Elizabeth was young, the 
care of her education devolved on her mother, who being a mem- 
ber of the Roman Catholic Church, took much pains to have the 
mind of her daughter early imbued with the tenets of that church. 
At this period, and for a long time after, the inhabitants of the De- 
troit country (then principally French) had no means of religious in- 
struction, except from the Romish clergy, who had taken very little 
pains to cultivate even the lower branches of literature among the 
people of their charge. The consequence was that great ignorance 
prevailed, so that very few of the common people knew any thing 
about reading. A happy exception it was Elizabeth's good fortune 
to enjoy, for she was taught to read, and the fluency which she ac- 
quired in reading the French marked her superior genius, and which 
with other circumstances of improvement, shewed her possessed of 
a capacity beyond the ordinary children of her age. 

She remained in the belief and practice of all the tenets of the 
Roman Catholic religion till the age of fifteen, when she was married 
to John Dolson, Esq. and settled on the river Thames, where she 
spent the remainder of her life. After her marriage she was in- 
structed by her husband to read the English, which gave her access 
to the Bible ; and in which she took much delight. As she read 
the word of God she compared with it the articles of her faith, and 
was surprised to find that the bible seemed to condemn some of 
them. 

As she took a deliberate and leisurely review of the articles of her 
faith, she became more and more convinced that some of them were 
inconsistent with the word of God, and with sound reason. The 
first of which she doubted was the practice of praying to saints and 
angels. These she thought are created beings as well as ourselves, and 
are principally employed around the throne of God. Their knowl- 
edge therefore must be principally of a heavenly nature. How then 
shall I know that any of them are acquainted with my wants. If, 
indeed, God please to send them to minister to his saints on earth, 
how shall I know which of them to pray to, unless 1 may know which 
of them is commissioned to minister unto me ? but this is no where 
revealed ! but if I knew this, is it not God alone " from whom com- 
eth every good and perfect gift," " and there is but one God, and 
but one mediator between God and men." Thus she thought, and 
thus she reasoned in her inquiries after the great truths of her salvation . 



MRS. ELIZABETH DOLSON. 513 

In the bible she also read this awful prohibition, " thou shalt not 
make unto thee any graven image," — " thou shalt not bow down 
thyself to them, nor serve them, for J, the Lord thy God, am a jeal- 
out God." Exodus xx. 5, 6. 

But notwithstanding the discovery of these errors in her church of 
praying to saints and angels, and bowing down to images, yet she 
had no idea of leaving the communion in which she had been raised, 
for she had strong prejudices against every system but the Roman 
Catholic. Such was the sanctity which she attached to the name 
that she thought every thing else in religion must be wrong ; not 
considering that it was truth, and not the outward appearance or 
name that unfolds the kingdom of Christ to the believer. Indeed, 
when the force of education is considered, this is not to be wondered 
at. — Even the apostles of our Lord were so prepossessed in favor 
of the errors prevailing among the Jews, that Christ's kingdom was 
to be a temporal one, that it was not till after his resurrection, that 
they understood that his kingdom cometh not with observation (in 
outward appearance) but that it would be established in the power of 
the Spirit, producing " righteousness., peace and joy in the Holy 
Ghost." Mrs. Dolson, however, as yet enjoyed no means by which 
her prejudices might be removed. For though the settlement on the 
river Thames was made soon after the American Revolution, and 
consisted principally of English inhabitants, yet it was more than 
twenty years before any religious society was formed, and but rarely 
that the people had the opportunity of hearing a protestant ser- 
mon. — The consequence was that a careless indifference about all 
religion was manifest throughout the settlement, and few if any in 
the acquaintance of Mrs. Dolson knew any thing of experimental 
religion. The deep depravity of the heart — and consequently the 
importance of the new birth — justification by faith in the atonement 
made by Jesus Christ — a sense of pardon by the witness of the Spi- 
rit — the consolations of the Holy Comforter, and victory over sin 
and the fear of death. — These precious truths and privileges of the 
gospel she had never heard properly stated and enforced. Doubting 
many things in the system of her own religion, and being dissatisfied 
with her own state, she was at times greatly troubled, and related 
the trials of her mind to her husband, adding, " if I am wrong, I 
hope God will by some providential event, shew me my errors and 
the way to amend." 

I must here be indulged in a little digression, that the reader may 
perceive that God is not unmindful of those who sincerely desire to 
know him, and the way which the great shepherd takes to lead the 
sincere inquirer to his own fold. 

The destitute state of Canada had twenty years before, excited 
the attention and Christian sympathy, of the New York Conference, 
and missionaries had been sent out by Bishop Asbury into almost all 
the settlements in the Upper Province ; but from its remote and isu- 

65 



514 MEMOIRS OF 

lated situation (being nearly eight hundred miles from New York, 
and separated by a wilderness from any other settlement) this part 
of the country remained unsupplied, though for years several of our 
preachers nad felt the spiritual interest of this people deeply im- 
pressed on their minds. At length, such was the concern felt by a 
Methodist preacher for the salvation of these people, that in the spring 
of 1809* he wrote Bishop Asbury on the state of the country, and 
offered his services at the ensuing conference. Accordingly, at the 
New York conference in May, he was appointed as a missionary to 
the Detroit country. He arrived on this river in July 1809. At 
first he had little hopes of success, for in traveling through the set- 
tlements he found that great ignorance of the nature of religion per- 
vaded all ranks, and in some places the greatest immoralities were 
practised. A view of these things afforded but a gloomy prospect, 
and the heart of the missionary was greatly affected with the moral 
condition of the people. Prejudices too had been formed by va- 
rious false reports unfavorable to the methodists, so that in the com- 
mencement he had no small difficulties to encounter. But by a pa- 
tient perseverance in duty, and by a conciliatory address, prejudices 
gave way, and the friendship and affection of the people generally 
were gained. Mrs. Dolson, however, with some others, remained 
prejudiced against the methodists, and she supposed it wrong (from 
the reports she had heard) to shew them any countenance. At 
length she was prevailed upon to hear for herself. The doctrine of 
the preacher she could not but assent to : it was the language of 
scripture, and the advice was suited to her case. From this time her 
prejudices gave way, she became more and more alarmed at her 
sinfulness. Her awakened mind now felt the importance of this 
question, and the inquiry became her own, " what shall I do to be 
saved ?" this question was soon solved, Jesus Christ was set forth 
as the only mediator, and as one altogether willing and able to save 
to the uttermost. Having given up the mediation of saints and an- 
gels, she now began earnestly to pray to God for his mercy through 
Jesus Christ who died for sinners. She did not long mourn for him 
who was waiting to be gracious. She was soon enabled to cast her 
burden on the Lord. In his all sufficiency to save from guilt and 
sin, she found that " peace which is like a river," and her joy in the 
Holy Ghost became unspeakable. Thus, notwithstanding the strong 
prejudices she had imbibed, the impressions which the first discourse 
made upon her mind were lasting and led to a happy conversion. 



* This writer is under a mistake in respect to the time when this settlement was 
first visited by a Methodist missionary. In 1805, four years previous to the time 
when the missionary above referred to went there, a Methodist preacher under the 
sanction of Bishop Asbury, volunteered his services, and actually visited that settle- 
ment; and he continued with them about four months, faithfully preaching in every 
town and neighborhood where the English language was spoken and with no little 
satisfaction to himself and profit to the people. — Editor of Meth. Magazine. 



MRS. ELIZABETH. DOLSON. 515 

She now remembered her former desire and prayer that God would 
show her all her errors, and lead her into the way of truth. She be- 
lieved her petitions were answered, and that her heavenly father 
would now guide her in a scriptural and consistent way of serving 
Him. After her conversion the bible became her closet companion, 
and she read the blessed truths of her salvation with tears of grati- 
tude and joy. 

The change which was wrought on the mind of Mrs. Dolson was 
remarkably manifest in her whole deportment. Her conscientious 
observance of all the duties of religion — the advances she made in 
christian experience, as well as the Christian benevolence she always 
shewed towards the poor and the suffering, were highly creditable to 
religion, and tended much to establish and confirm the truths of the 
gospel among her neighbors and friends. After her conversion she 
began to prove the truth of our Savior's words to his disciples, " in 
the world ye shall have tribulation," but she endured as seeing him 
who is invisible, and at last overcame with a triumphant victory. 

Soon after her conversion, she wrote to her priest the reasons of 
her change, and requested a formal dismission from the church. 
This she never obtained ; but it produced considerable excitement 
among some of her Roman Catholic friends, especially after she be- 
came a member of the Methodist church. The part she had taken 
in " changing her religion," as they termed it, roused their displea- 
sure, and very considerably influenced their conduct towards her. 
This new and unexpected scene was the cause of much grief and 
trial to her mind. Being a person of amiable disposition and agree- 
able manners, she had been always greatly esteemed and caressed 
by her friends ; but now their countenances and words were changed 
and the treatment she received was the occasion of many tears. 
The opposition which was shewn her, however, was not altogether 
from her Romish friends. Whether in Papist or in Protestant the 
carnal mind is enmity, as other endeavors were made not only to 
destroy her influence in religion generally, but they even endeavored 
to lessen her in the estimation of her affectionate husband. Happy 
indeed for the peace of the family, this artful device proved unsuc- 
cessful. He perceived the grounds of their wicked devices, and he 
repelled with suitable indignation their malicious insinuations. These 
painful circumstances, instead of discouraging, seemed to strengthen 
her resolution. She saw with deep concern the influence which big- 
otry has over the benighted mind, and she fled with horror from the 
spirit of violence to the religion of Jesus, whose kingdom is righteous- 
ness and peace. The more opposition raged against her, the more 
she was invigorated to pursue the blessed cause she had espoused ; 
and she has often since remarked that some of the sweetest mo- 
ments in her religious experience were in the midst of this oppo- 
sition and abuse. Being persecuted for righteousness' sake, she 
could flee for support to the promises. " If ye be reproached for 



516 MEMOIRS OF 

the name of Christ, happy are ye ; for the spirit of glory and of 
God resteth upon you : on their part he is evil spoken of, but on your 
part he is glorified." 1 Peter iv. 14. The society to which Mrs. 
Dolson had united herself, as yet, was but small and by some few 
who appeared to desire its downfall, it became an object of ridicule 
and even of prophecy. It was confidently predicted that the metho- 
dists there would, like a morning cloud, soon pass away. But acting 
from principle, she was not discouraged by such predictions ; she 
took no anxious thought for the morrow, trusting that he who had 
begun this good work would not suffer his people to be confounded, 
but would carry it on to the day of Jesus Christ. The more posi- 
tively it was asserted that the society would fall, the more ardently 
did they beseech God for its prosperity and extension. And she 
lived to witness the gospel spreading its delightful influence on the 
Thames and neighboring settlements. The spirit of prayer and sup- 
plication, and of awakening, was poured out on the people ; many 
were added to the society, and walking in the fear of the Lord, and 
the comforts of the Holy Ghost, were multiplied. 

In April, 1818, a pulmonary consumption, of which she died, 
began to produce its symptoms. It was soon found to be too deeply 
seated to be removed. But though feeble she still attended the sick 
and the place of worship. This she continued to do till July, when 
she was confined to her house. Having derived much spiritual com- 
fort from the public ministry of the word, and being greatly united 
in affection to the society, it was not without a struggle in her mind, 
that she could deny herself the privilege of meeting with her breth- 
ren for the worship of God. — The last time she met with them, she 
seemed confident she should enjoy their society no more in that 
place, and the parting was with much weeping. Their union having 
been formed in Christ — the sacrifices which she had made for the 
sake of christian society, together with the crosses they had borne to- 
gether for the sake of Christ, had very much endeared them to each 
other, so that the parting was both painful and afflicting. During 
her confinement she was placed in circumstances calculated further 
to prove the solidity of her christian experience. It was the divine 
pleasure that she should enter the kingdom through much tribulation. 
She suffered considerably from the nature of her complaint ; and at 
times, in mind by powerful temptations. But as often as she was 
assaulted, she called on God in prayer, when he was pleased power- 
fully to deliver her mind, by which blessed manifestations of love 
her faith was strengthened,, and her consolations increased in sweet 
and heavenly foretastes of everlasting joys to come. 

In these hours of conflict, her knowledge of the holy scriptures 
was of unspeakable satisfaction to her mind. In this sacred volume 
she found inexhaustible sources of truth suited to her every circum- 
stance of warfare and conquest — of affliction and comfort — of life, 
death and immortality. At one time while in much pain she was 



MRS. ELIZABETH DOLSON. 517 

disappointed that some christian friends did not visit her as she was 
expecting, and being very weak, she was tempted to think that they 
neglected or had forgotten her, on which account she became uneasy 
and wept considerably. At length these words were applied with 
great sweetness to her, " cast all your care on him, for he careth 
for you." She called for the bible, and when the words were found 
and read, she was greatly comforted. Her mind was much employ- 
ed in meditating on the truths of the gospel, and she would some- 
times sweetly expatiate on the peculiar care which God in his provi- 
dence had shewn towards her from her infancy. Various instances 
she mentioned as that of his protection in dangers — that of her hap- 
py marriage and other providences which led to, and were made the 
means of her conversion : sometimes while in much pain, she would 
exclaim, " what should I now do if it were not for the blessed promi- 
ses of the gospel." 

While Mrs. Dolson was in health, she was attentive to the ordi- 
nances of the gospel ; she could not understand how professors could 
expect to advance in the knowledge of Christ without attending to 
his plain commands. So when she became too feeble to attend the 
usual meetings, by request of her husband, meetings were held in 
her room. The writer frequently attended, and at times administer- 
ed to her the Lord's Supper. On these occasions she was much 
affected at the remembrance of her Savior's sufferings, and grati- 
tude and love seemed frequently and fervently to flow from both 
heart and tongue. 

After suffering in her complaint for near sixteen months, the symp- 
toms of approaching death began to appear, and failing fast, her 
pious friends began to be apprehensive that she might not have 
strength in her last moments to bear a testimony to the power of re- 
ligion. They therefore united in prayer to the God of all grace, 
beseeching that for the honor of his cause, he would grant to his dy- 
ing handmaid, the use of her reason and strength to declare his lov- 
ing kindness in death. Accordingly a little before she expired, she 
revived as from the shades of death, and spoke in such an impress- 
ive and melting manner as greatly affected all who were present. 
After a weighty charge to her friends, then to her family, she added. 
" I have not served God for nought. He is faithful to his promises ; 
and now I do not repent any sacrifice I have made for him and his 
service." Having thus finished her last advice to her friends, she 
desired for the last time to commemorate, in the Holy communion, 
the sufferings of her Savior. Her minister attended on the occa- 
sion, but she was so much exhausted by her late exhortations, that 
some time passed before she recovered strength to receive the sacra- 
mental bread. After performing this service, her husband came 
near, and she very gratefully acknowledged the kind attention which 
he had always shewn her ; as their union had been marked by ex- 
traordinary attachment, so the last parting was extremely affecting, 



518 MEMOlRSj SlC. 

being rendered more so by these expressions of grateful endear- 
ment in a dying partner. She enjoyed her reason for the few re- 
maining minutes of her life, and she spent them in mingled express- 
ions of prayer and praise, frequently repeating these words, " bless- 
ed Jesus ! blessed Jesus !" Her last words were " come, Lord Je- 
sus, come !" and ceased to breathe the 26th of August, 1819. 

Thus lived, and thus died our beloved sister, Elizabeth Dolson, 
an ornament to the christian character. Her death was a loss to the 
church, especially in her neighborhood. But 

" Hosanna to Jesus on high, 

Another has enter'd his rest ; 
Another has 'scap'd to the sky, 

And lodged in Immanuel's breast. 
The soul of our sister is gone, 

To heighten the triumphs above ; 
Exalted to Jesus's throne, 

And clasp'd in the arms of his love." 

Many were her excellencies, but those which are an example to 
her sex, should not be forgotten. 

Her conversation, though familiar, was conducted with reserve. 
She considered it a crime to remain in company where slander was 
served up for the entertainment of the guest, and though pleasant, 
her words shewed that her sentiments w 7 ere formed before they were 
expressed. In the economy of her house she was also a valuable 
pattern. As contentment and peace were, her companions in her do- 
mestic circle, so she seldom left it without a call from duty. Em- 
ploying her time in the care of her family, instances of industry arid 
economy were seen in every department of her house. Thus hap- 
pily avoiding that confusion, for " want of time" of which the indo- 
lent and frequent visitor is heard to complain. By diligence in bu- 
siness also she redeemed the more time for purposes of religion, as 
that of visiting and ministering to the sick of her neighborhood, as 
well as attending the common and special means of grace. In a 
word it might be said of her, " she layeth her hands to the spindle, 
and her hands hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the 
poor, yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She open- 
eth her mouth with wisdom ; and in her tongue is the law of kind- 
ness. She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not 
the bread of idleness. Give her of the fruits of her hands ; and let 
her own works praise her in her gates." Prov. xxxi. 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. 4.— 1820, 



519 



MRS. SALLY AGAR)), 



Sally Agard was the daughter of John and Lowly Stone, of 
Litchfield, Connecticut, and was born Sept. 25, 1785. She was 
blest with a religious education, and was much respected by her ac- 
quaintance. She gave, however, no evidence of religious impress- 
ions, which were lasting, until July 1, 1808, when she attended a 
camp-meeting in Sharon, Connecticut. Though led to this place 
merely from curiosity} it proved the means of her conversion. The 
morning after the meeting commenced, she was persuaded by her 
pious sister to join in a prayer-meeting. Here the Spirit of the 
Lord so operated upon her heart, that, under a sense of condemna- 
tion, she cried aloud to God for mercy, while others were engaged 
in ardent intercessions at the throne of grace on her behalf. In a 
few hours her soul was delivered from the burden of guilt, and she 
was enabled to rejoice in God her Savior. On her return home, 
she freely declared what God had done for her soul, thus, " with 
the mouth making confession unto salvation." Soon after she joined 
the Methodist Church, of which she proved a worthy member. 

About this time her health began to decline. She continued 
steadfast in the faith, and diligent in the use of all the means of 
grace. At a camp-meeting in Rhinebeck, state of New York, the 
Lord deepened His work of grace in her heart, so that her joy ap- 
peared to be full. From this time she seemed ripening for glory. 

In November following, according to a previous engagement, she 
was married to Mr. Samuel Agard, of Catharine, New York, to 
which place she was shortly removed. She was now called to ex- 
emplify the Christian principles and character, in a new relation of 
life; and, as her husband did not profess experimental godliness, she 
had to encounter trials of a new kind ; but her trust was in God, to 
whom she cleaved with full purpose of heart, and was accordingly 
abundantly supported and comforted. It ought, however, to be ob- 
served, that notwithstanding Mr. Agard did not enjoy religion, he 
manifested a regard for it, and assisted his wife in attending upon 
the stated ordinances of God ; but, in consequence of ill health, and 
other reasons, she was, in some measure, prevented from enjoying 
those privileges as often as she wished. She, nevertheles, was 
faithful in her private devotions, and in discharging the various du- 
ties of life. In this she enjoyed consolation. 

Feeling much for the moral and eternal state of her unconverted 
husband, she was excited to pray often for his salvation. She fre- 
quently told him, that if any thing made her desire to live, it was to 



520 MEMOIRS OF 

see him happy in the love of God. For this, therefore, she ardent- 
ly prayed, and her prayers were finally answered. 

The disease with which she was afflicted, the consumption, caused 
her to suffer much pain and distress; but in the midst of all, she 
evidently increased in faith and love, and was truly a pattern of 
piety and patience. Her zeal for God, and her activity, as far as 
her declining health would permit, in His service, made her very 
useful to society. Though her bodily strength was much exhausted, 
on Sept. 26, 1811, she, in company with her husband, attended a 
camp-meeting which was held in the town where they resided. 
Here she labored hard for the salvation of souls, and great was her 
faith in God. Some remarkable instances of answers to her prayers 
were witnessed at this memorable meeting. Among others, I will 
relate the two following. 

A young man of her acquaintance was suddenly convicted of sin, 
and in anguish of soul, cried to God for help. While in this keen 
distress, many prayed for him, seemingly to no purpose. In the 
mean time our departed sister was earnestly engaged in his behalf. 
She at length arose from her knees, and said, " Brethren, God has 
given us the victory !" This she repeated three times. In a few 
moments, the young man himself arose, and declared that God had 
given him the remission of his sins. The other was her husband ; 
who, on the last morning of the meeting, found him of whom Moses 
and the prophets did write. Although extremely weak in body, she 
had wrestled in prayer for him almost the whole night. The Lord 
answered her importunities, by putting a new song into his mouth, 
and giving her the participation of his joys. Several others, through 
her instrumentality, as they have since acknowledged, were power- 
fully awakened to a sense of their lost condition. 

It was now evident that she was fast verging towards the eternal 
world ; and she witnessed the silent approaches of death with the 
utmost fortitude and calmness, often speaking of her approaching 
dissolution with Christian composure, in the full hope of a blooming 
immortality. Death, indeed, had no terrors for her. Her conver- 
sation was chiefly concerning religion and heaven. A cheerful so- 
lemnity was visible upon her countenance, and sweetened her society 
to her friends and acquaintance. Holiness was her constant theme. 
It was her motto. She often said that her time on earth was short. 
The last love-feast she attended, she observed that she should never 
attend another. Though her spiritual conflicts were at times severe, 
and thereby tested the genuineness of her faith, yet she triumphed 
in God her Savior in the midst of them all. 

When suffering great pain and distress, she would sing, 

" The more my sufferings here increase,' 
The greater is my future bliss," &c. 

" So be it then, if thou ordain ; 
Crown all my happy life with pain, 
And let me daily die," &c. 



MRS. SALLY AGARD. 521 

For three weeks before her confinement, she declined fast, and on 
the morning of that day she assisted in preparing breakfast, and then 
observed it would be the last time she should assist in that work, 
which proved true ; for the day following her friends were alarmed 
by witnessing the blood issuing from her lungs, which so weakened 
her as to confine her to the bed. On being asked if she were willing 
to die, she replied, "O yes!" Her husband asked, if deprived of 
her speech, what signal she would give to denote her happiness in 
God, and prospects of glory? She said, "I will raise my finger." 
Accordingly, a short time before her death, the neighbors being call- 
ed in to witness her last struggle, being speechless, to their great joy 
she repeated the signal several times. 

Contrary to all expectation, her speech returned ; and being in 
an ecstacy of joy, she exclaimed in rapturous triumph, "O precious 
Jesus! O glorious Redeemer! O glory to God ! I am going home! 
I am glad I have borne the cross, for now I see a crown of glory re- 
served for me. O glory ! glory ! I am going. O Jesus, why do thy 
chariot wheels delay? He is coming! Come, Lord Jesus, come 
quickly, and receive me to thyself. After a few moments of pause, 
she broke forth again in lofty strains, giving glory to God. She 
spoke with an audible voice, frequently clapping her hands, saying, 
" my joys are inexpressible." 

She then desired them to send for a family who denied the power 
of religion. When they came, she addressed herself to one of them 
as follows : — " O Susan — Susan — look at me, and prepare to die ! 
I am happy — Glory ! glory ! glory ! I am going to my Jesus !" 
Those Christian friends who were present, rejoiced from a feeling 
sense of the presence of God ; while unbelievers wept, and acknowl- 
edged it must be the power and work of God. 

From this time she advanced rapidly towards the termination of 
her mortal existence; and on Sabbath morning they thought her dead, 
and accordingly sung, "Happy soul, thy days are ended," he. But 
she again revived, and exhorted them all to be faithful. Though they 
watched her departing breath, and waited to witness the flight of the 
immortal spirit from its expiring partner, yet she said to them, "I shall 
not die to-day; but on Thursday I shall finish my work." Accord- 
ingly on that evening she closed her eyes in death, and no doubt but 
her ransomed soul ascended to the regions of the blessed. The text 
which was used as the foundation of her funeral sermon, will apply 
to her, it is thought, with great truth — " Blessed are the dead, who 
die in the Lord." She ended her days upon earth in her 29th year. 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. IV. — 1821. 



66 



522 



MISS ELIZABETH FECK* 



The following short account of the conversion of Miss Elizabeth 
Peck, was written by herself. 

"I was born in the town of Danbury, Conn. July 22, 1792. 
When I was two years of age, my parents removed to the town of 
Middlefield, Otsego county, N. Y. where I spent about twenty years 
of my life. Here I wasted the morning of life, and experienced the 
decay of youthful vigor, through a lingering sickness. My parents 
were religious and brought up their children strictly moral, teaching 
them to attend public worship at least once a week, which was the 
means, under God, of so enlightening my understanding, that since 
my first remembrance I have been followed with serious impressions 
relative to a future state. Soon did I learn that my happiness here- 
after depended on the right use of the means of grace put into my 
hands. I was therefore induced to form many resolutions to become 
pious, but would soon find my resolutions not sufficiently grounded, 
to withstand the allurements of the world and the vanity of my youth- 
ful mind. For being fond of gay company and amusements, my 
heart was often betrayed into sin, which in my moments of reflec- 
tion caused me to lament the depravity of my heart, and the incon- 
stancy of my zeal for the salvation of my soul. At the age of six- 
teen I joined a singing school. As I possessed a tolerable voice 
and a great taste for music, I made considerable proficiency. But 
though the diversion in itself was innocent and improving, the gen- 
eral spirit of the company which it introduced me into, was such as 
served to draw my mind from serious things. But blessed be God 
for his awakening mercy, which pursued me closely, and sometimes 
in dreams and visions of the night. One of which cannot be easily 
erased from my memory. I thought that one of my companions at 
school was taken sick with the typhus fever, and I with several oth- 
ers went to visit him. We found him just expiring in the most fright- 
ful appearance, and in all the horrors of a guilty conscience. This 
awful scene so alarmed me that I awoke. The sensation was so 
strongly impressed upon my mind, that I thought I had taken the 
fever from him, and so fancied myself sick. This, with conviction 
for my past disobedience rolling upon me, so depressed my spirits 
that I left school. And so it fell out, even as I dreamed. In a few 
days poor J. C. was violently seized with the typhus fever, which 
in about two weeks terminated in his death. A few days before 
which, I was called to go with some friends to see him, I started in 
haste not thinking of my dream until I opened the door. When m 



MEMOIRS, &C. 523 

an instant all the affair was opened to my mind. I looked around 
and saw every circumstance exactly as I dreamed. The weeping 
friends with the departing son bereft of his reason, and without hope 
in Christ. My feelings were now harrowed up anew. I also took 
the fever, and soon became sick in reality. Means however were 
blessed so that the fever found a crisis before it run to its common 
height. But oh ! how can I paint the anxiety of my mind. It far 
exceeded my bodily distress. The desperate case of the young 
man was constantly before me. I fancied I could see his dreadful 
situation and hear him upbraid me in language like this : 'You have 
Christian parents and every spiritual advantage, but alas ! how stri- 
king the contrast between us ! I have been early taught to make a 
jest of religion, and break the commands of God. Why did you not 
tell me better ?' I was now brought into a strait. I strove to look 
to God for pardoning mercy ; but such crowds of temptations pres- 
sed me on every hand, that I was almost prevented raising one de- 
sire to heaven. In this state of mind I continued for several months. 
A certain passage of scripture lay with much weight upon my mind. 
' For which of you intending to build a lower sitteth not down first, 
and counteth the cost whether he be able to finish it.' These words 
were opened, and set home to my heart. I thought that a tower 
must cost much labor, and it would be necessary to collect a suffi- 
cient quantity of materials fit for the purpose, and then to choose a 
good situation on a firm foundation. The application was obvious. 
I found that my mind was carnal and sold under sin. A great work 
lay before me, and until it was accomplished, I should be exposed 
to destruction from the incursions of my enemies. In short, that I 
must have an interest in Christ, to the expense of all my pride and 
self-righteousness — That I must be careful to build on the sure foun- 
dation, or the winds and the floods would prove destruction, and all 
my labor be in vain. Thus did I try to count the cost. In retro- 
specting my life I found that it had been filled up with disappoint- 
ment, and that my master whom 1 had served, had but ill paid me 
for all my toil and pain. At length I learned that a Camp-meeting 
was to be held in the town of Munden about ten miles distant. I 
had heard much of such meetings, though never witnessed any for 
myself. It appeared to me that I ought to attend — that if I did it 
was probable that I should see or hear something that would prove 
a consolation to my mind. Accordingly I attended ; and found the 
order of the meeting good. The preaching and praying came like 
thunder to my soul ; and instead of wearing away the disease, seem- 
ed to make it still more burdensome and afflictive, until I concluded 
that it was high time wholly to lay down the weapons of my rebell- 
ion, and venture upon Christ, the rock of my salvation. Although 
this seemed exceedingly difficult, yet as nothing short could possi- 
bly save me from the rage of a guilty conscience and the wrath of 
God — trembling, sick and wounded as I was, being slain by the law 



524 MEMOIRS OF 

and every way cut off — resolving if I must perish to perish at the 
feet of a crucified Savior, I plead : Gracious Heaven ! permit me, 
even me to approach thee. And in this critical period, when my heart 
labored under a load intolerable to be borne, between hope and fear, 
I raised my feeble heart if happily I might see Jesus with a token of 
peace. And Oh ! who can tell the joy of my heart when suddenly 
I viewed him by faith swaying the golden sceptre within my reach. 
Instead of finding him at so great a distance as I imagined, I found 
him near at hand, speaking peace to my soul ; saying, go in peace 
and sin no more. Glory to God for redeeming goodness. My soul 
exults in the recollection of that triumphant hour, when my sorrow 
was turned into joy. 

" Thus I continued praying and praising, until it pleased the Lord 
to manifest his love to me in showing me the frailty of human nature, 
by visiting me with a lingering fever, the effects of which no doubt 
will follow me down to the shades of the silent tomb. This affliction, 
I humbly trust, has measurably answered the design of Providence. 
He who knows my proneness to wander, knows also what would ter- 
minate in my good. This state of debility has served to wean my 
affections from this fading world, and place them on things heavenly 
and sublime." 

The affliction which she mentions was a nervous fever, which left 
her in a state of debility, and occasioned a weakness of the stomach 
of which she never found a radical cure. She spent one season at 
Ballston springs. The use of the water and the warm bath, afford- 
ed her much relief, but did not wholly restore her : yet she was gen- 
erally able to attend to some useful employment, which did not re- 
quire very great exertions. She did not fail to improve this affliction 
to the best advantage. Ever after its commencement she let go her 
hold on the world, and as she ceased to expect happiness from it, so 
she ceased to conform to its maxims and principles. She lived with 
a constant reference to the world of spirits. While she enjoyed in- 
timate communion with God, she gave the fullest evidence for sever- 
al years that she was a subject of sanctifying grace, though her deep 
humility prevented her making many professions of it. This grace 
supported her under all the troubles of life, and gave her a pleasing 
hope of immortality in the hour of death. 

The earliest of her letters extant is dated Feb. 2, 1817. In this 
she observes : " You will please pardon me, my dear brother, if I go 
on a little farther and inform you, that while I have been reviewing 
my past reflections, I have not forgotten to apply a share of them to 
myself. 

" I have found by experience that there is no better way for me to 
live than to be a sincere beggar at the feet of Jesus. To sit in the 
dust, and if possible, get lower still and learn of Christ, to be meek 
and lowly in heart. I often find my heart impressed with a sense 
of the danger of an almost Christian, and think what a pity it would 



MISS ELIZABETH PECK. 525 

be to well nigh reach heaven, and for want of a little more faith and 
good works, to be cast off. Oh ! that God would revive his work 
in my heart, and enable me to be a Christian in the fullest sense of 
the word. I do thank the Lord for the measure of his Spirit which 
I have enjoyed of late. But I still feel the want of a more intimate 
union with God. I sigh in pain for living bread. I long for your 
prayers day and night, that I may be faithful to the grace already 
given, and happily meet you with all the Israel of God to praise him 
to all eternity." 

" November, 1817. 

" I shall now proceed to inform you of my exercises on the sub- 
ject of professors of religion viewing the world. I think I never had 
such inferior views of what is called the riches of the world, as I 
have at present. I see nothing here worthy of my affections. Ev- 
ery thing I behold preaches loudly to me, saying, ' Be diligent in 
doing thy work, for ere long thou wilt be called to thy long home.' 
And considering the adversity through which I am at present and 
shall continue to be called to pass, I do feel that if it should please 
God, it would be far better for me to depart, believing that I should 
certainly rest with the people of God. Oh ! for some guardian angel 
to convey my spirit to a happier clime, while the grave kindly opens 
to receive my mortal body, until the morning of the resurrection. 
How gladly would I resign myself to its bosom. But all the days of 
my appointed time will I wait till my change come. 

" I am yours with much respect, " 

"Hamilton, Nov. 11, 1818. 

" How sweet the intercourse where hearts agree, 
Thought meeting thought in perfect harmony ; 
Whilst here our hearts agree in truth and love, 
We share in part the bliss of saints above." 

" But I find my trembling hand too weak to paint our former 
friendship either in verse or prose. And may I not say with proprie- 
ty that the same is still existing between us, although we are sepa- 
rated at present by many miles. And were it possible for me to 
exchange this opportunity for verbal intercourse, how quickly would 
I lay aside my pen and tell you all my heart. 

" My mind is constantly employed in making observations as I 
pass from scene to scene, and I conclude from the whole that it is a 
matter of the greatest importance that I act up to the dignity of 
my character as a moral agent, filling up the rounds of duty during 
my short co-partnership with flesh and blood ; and that I consider 
who hath placed me here, and for what end I am sent into this 
world of discipline and trial ; and whether I have found my par- 
ticular allotment on this stage, and am acting the rational part, where 
angels and men and the Great God, are my spectators. Ah ! what 



526 MEMOIRS OF 

shall I do to secure the favor of the King Eternal ? Should we give 
our goods to feed the poor, or our bodies to be burned, without 
charity we are nothing. It is love that unites the soul to God, and 
induces unfeigned obedience to his law. Oh ! for more love to God 
and man, that I may be enabled to accomplish the business of life, 
and finish my course in peace. 

" We have just received your kind letter, and are all much pleas- 
ed to hear of your health and the prosperity of Zion. Bless the 
Lord for what he has done for us as a family. When I reflect upon 
the goodness of God toward us, I am lost in astonishment, and am 
ready to fall prostrate at his feet and offer oblations of praise and 
thanksgiving to God for all his benefits. It is my prayer that God 
may prosper you — the secret closet, the grove, and the field, witness 
to my prayers in your behalf. But I forbear lest I should weary 
your patience with my long story. 

Still yours, he. " 

Hamilton, October 31, 1819. 
" To Mrs. Mary Peck, > 

" I am a soldier enlisted under the King Eternal, to fight against 
the powers of darkness. It is nine years since I have been intrusted 
with the spiritual weapons of the Christian warfare, in which time 
I have been enabled to gain many glorious victories to the confusion 
of the armies of the aliens. And bless the Lord, time is swiftly 
rolling. And this mudwall cottage being under the pressure of con- 
tinual disorder, beaten with winds and storms will soon fall and return 
to the dust. Then I shall have no need of this spiritual armor, but 
shall rest from my labors. And in the morning of the resurection 
I humbly trust, that he who has led captivity captive will raise un- 
worthy me to sound an eternal anthem of praise to God for redeem- 
ing goodness ; where I shall meet my beloved Christian friends and 
relations with the Israel of God, 

"Yours he. " 

"Hamilton, May 13, 1821. 
" My dear Brother and Sister, 

" After much anxiety of mind respecting you, we received your let- 
ter, which afforded us a degree of consolation, especially to learn from 
it that your health is improving. Truly health is the greatest earth- 
ly blessing heaven is pleased to bestow upon us. From experience I 
am prepared to condole with those who are deprived of good health. 
They are unable, without a great deal of grace, to relish the enjoy- 
ments of life, or to have correct views of their situation. The spirits 
becoming depressed, earth wears a gloomy aspect, and the miseries 
of human life are presented to the mind with their melancholy train 
of woes, and if not checked in the first stage, it soon terminates in a 
derangement of the believing faculties and causes us to entertain 



MISS ELIZABETH PECK. 527 

erroneous views of things. To have just views of myself and the 
objects around me appears important. I wish not to rate things too 
high or too low. Either of those errors is attended with embarrass- 
ments. I want to be able to say in prosperity and adversity, that 
" none of these things move me." I desire to be regulated by the 
gospel rule in all my conduct through life, so that my being on earth 
prove not in vain to myself, nor a prejudice to others. 

" It is a dull time in religion among us, the people are careless 
about their souls or secure on an old hope. There has been a great 
deal of sickness, and several deaths in our town. But through di- 
vine goodness we have escaped with a few accidents, which, no doubt, 
are hints for us to prepare for greater events. Oh ! my brother, I 
feel the need of being like an evergreen whose leaves wither not in 
time of drought or frost. I long to give glory to God for the movings 
of his Spirit on my heart while I write. I do expect ere long to 
meet my dear friends in a more delightful country, where our songs 
of prabe will be eternally without interruption. 

" I should say much more, but the bearer of this is waiting. I 
must just remind you that it has been a great while since we have 
seen you, and we are looking forward to the time of the Conference, 
hoping then to receive a visit from you. I hope you will not fail. 

Yours, &c. " 

"Hamilton, Nov. 14, 1822. 
" My very dear Brother and Sister, 

" With a trembling hand and heart, I attempt to give you informa- 
tion of the late afflictive Providence in our family, hoping you are pre- 
pared by grace to receive the tidings of sorrow and grief, and yet of 
joy and gladness. Death has entered our dwelling ! ! ! Mary, our 
sister, has just taken her everlasting flight to the skies. We should 
be glad to have you come and mourn with us, and if possible, con>- 
fort us. But I forbear enlargement, and shut up my feelings within 
my own breast. 

Yours, &c. " 

She spent the forepart of last summer with her brother. Dur- 
ing which time, her conduct and conversation afforded sufficient evi- 
dence, that she was fast ripening for heaven and immortal happiness. 
She returned home the first of August. After which it was observ- 
ed by the family, that she conversed on the subjects of death and 
eternity, with unusual freedom and interest. The following lines she 
repeated and sung so frequently, even while about her daily employ- 
ment, that it was remarked by several not belonging to the family. 

" Let this vain world engage no more, 

Behold the opening tomb ; 
Its bids us use the present hour. 

To-morrow death may come.*' 



528 MEMOIRS OF 

On the death of her sister, (as may be observed in the last letter) 
her feelings were considerably excited. This letter was written but 
a few moments after the event happened, while her heart was bleed- 
ing with the wound occasioned by the departure of one of her dear- 
est earthly friends. But she soon recollected herself, and became 
resigned to the will of Providence. When her sister was interred, 
she fell upon her knees by the side of the grave, and continued |in 
this posture for some minutes, lifting up her heart to God in silent 
adoration and praise. But the malignant fever which carried off 
Mary, continued its ravages in the family. Previous to her being 
attacked herself, several were brought down to the borders of the 
grave. She spared no attention or labor. She even seemed to go 
beyond herself, forgetting the weakness of her constitution. For 
one of her brothers she felt a peculiar degree of anxiety. When his 
life was almost wholly despaired of by all, she brought his case to 
the Lord. She besought God to give him to his parents a little 
longer, to comfort them in their declining years. Many were the 
petitions which she offered up to God upon her knees by his bedside. 
And here it was that she was first seized with the fits of ague, which 
warned her of an attack of the fever. At first she was almost un- 
willing to give up, and be seemed lost by this means, as others she 
thought more needy would be neglected. Though her symptoms 
were not very alarming till two days before her death, yet she calcu- 
lated but little upon recovering. Her brother was with her in her 
sickness, and she informed him that she thought it not probable that 
she should ever recover. Though such was the state of the family 
by this time, every one sick (eight in all) the case of some very 
doubtful, if not quite desperate. Knowing that such intelligence 
would create great uneasiness in her afflicted friends, which would 
very much distract her own feelings, besides being an injury to them, 
she made no such professions openly, but seemed to labor hard to 
conceal the real state of her case. But this could not be done long. 
In about eight days after she was taken, her disorder took a very un- 
favorable turn, inflammation suddenly taking place it was soon dread- 
ed that she must die. As she saw herself hastening to the place 
appointed for all living, her mind was in perfect peace. If she 
manifested any anxiety of mind at all, it was on account of the ef- 
fect that her death would have on her surviving friends. " I have no 
doubt," said she, u but it will be well with me, and I have never 
seen a time since I experienced religion, but if I had been called to 
die, I believe I should have been happy. But I fear that my death 
with what has already befallen them, will be more than my aged pa- 
rents will be able to bear." Being inquired of, whether she thought 
she was about to leave the world, she answered, " Yes ; and glory 
heaves in view." As she continued to fail, and experienced a great 
difficulty in breathing, she requested one of her friends to " pray 
that she might have some relief before she died." She soon closed 



MISS ELIZABETH PECK. 529 

her eyes on all things below the sun, and raised her heart to heaven, 
her house — her home ; and when she could not articulate a word so 
as to be heard, she whispered her prayers and praises, and her lips 
were observed to move until her breath ceased. She died on the 
30th Nov. 1822, after walking twelve years in the ways of obedi- 
ence to her heavenly Master, with but ten days illness, in the 31st 
year of her age, in hopes of immortality. She fell to rise — she di- 
ed to live forever. 

In the character of our departed sister, we shall, I think, see 
something worthy of our imitation. She had a strong desire to be 
useful. And as her employment, some part of every year for sev- 
eral years, was teaching a school, she had an extensive opportunity 
of teaching the youth, the principles of morality and religion. This 
opportunity she did not fail to improve, always praying in her school 
once a day, and giving such advice to her scholars, and imposing 
such restrictions upon them, as would tend to form their minds to 
virtue and happiness. She possessed the principles of government 
in a greater degree than is common, and was very successful in 
managing the affairs of her school. 

In her intercourse with her fellow creatures, she endeavored always 
to act consistently with the dignity of her profession- She was seri- 
ous to a degree that commanded respect, and yet her sociability ena- 
bled her to make herself agreeable in conversation. Her counsel 
was generally safe, and her reproofs salutary. They were always so 
seasoned with the pious effusions of her heart, that they rarely failed 
of a favorable reception. Her pious examples, and her godly admo- 
nitions will long be remembered, especially by her family connections. 

She prayed without ceasing. Nothing prevented her visiting her 
closet at her stated times. Often she visited it many times in a day. 
She watched over her spirit, words and actions. By grace she was 
enabled to rule her own spirit, and even to conquer herself, which 
" is better than to take a city." For several years she made it a rule 
to fast every Friday. This she found a great means of spiritual im- 
provement. She possessed that deep humility whose language is, 

" Make me little and unknown, 
Loved and prized by God alone." 

She labored to shun every appearance of pride in her manners and 
dress. Her Christian patience was remarkable. Though for sev- 
eral years she labored under the pressure of bodily infirmities, she 
never murmured ; but patiently suffered the will of God, in hopes 
of receiving the promises. Her zeal and Christian diligence, furn- 
ished an example to others who were in other respects her superi- 
ors. She diligently attended all the means of grace. The house 
of God was her home ; in it she took great delight. She frequently 
overcame great difficulties in attending places of worship, desiriDg 
never to be absent when it was possible for her to attend. She dili- 

67 



530 memoirs, he. 

gently read the Holy Scriptures, and labored to understand them. 
Though her reading was considerably extensive, yet the Bible was 
her principal book. She took it with her to her closet, and while 
employed with her needle, she often kept it by her side, and would 
frequently read small portions, as she said, to assist her meditations. 
But her zeal for the salvation of souls, induced her to use every 
proper means, both public and private, to save sinners. Her public 
prayers and exhortations have, in various instances, been made the 
means of conviction to the wicked. The broken hearted penitent 
particularly interested her attention ; she was ready to take such by 
the hand and lead them to Jesus Christ, who makes the wounded 
whole. 

Finally — She cultivated with assiduous care the peculiar virtues and 
graces which adorn her sex, wearing as her chief ornament, that 
"meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.' 5 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. 6.— 182S, 



531 



MISS LYDIA B. LEAVITT 



Miss Lydia B. Leavitt was the daughter of Col. Gilman Lea- 
vitt, Portsmouth, N. H. She was born in the year 1798, and died 
July 16, 1821, in the twenty third year of her age. 

She appeared to have possessed a very tender and delicate mind, 
naturally thoughtful, and much inclined to reading and reflection. 
From her infancy, it has been observed by her family relatives, she 
has manifested a scrupulous regard to truth ; so that it is not recol- 
lected that she ever told an untruth. She seldom needed reproof or 
correction ; and if at any time reproof was given with marks of pa- 
rental disapprobation, it produced such excessive grief as to render 
it necessary to be extremely cautious as to her general treatment. 
She also possessed a mild, and peaceable disposition, and was not a 
little remarkable for her patience under circumstances of deprivation, 
trial, and affliction. But however she might have been endued with 
many mental excellencies, and acquired accomplishments, to render 
her estimable and beloved ; it was early piety which sanctified, and 
gave an inestimable value to her character. 

Her family attending the Episcopal Church, she was confirmed, 
and attended the Church services and the holy communion. She 
appears to have been very early and frequently under the operations 
of the Spirit of God, and was much in the habit of making serious 
reflections on the passing occurrences of providence, on hearing the 
Gospel, and on seeing its ordinances administered. These reflec- 
tions, with her views and feelings on religious subjects, are to be met 
with in most of her letters written to her young female friends ; a few 
extracts from which, we doubt not, will be read with interest, and will 
furnish the best views which can be given of her general character. 

When about 15 years of age, she writes thus, after mentioning seve- 
ral cases of sickness and death : " When so many are sick and dying 
around us, should it not remind us of our own end ? Perhaps we 
shall be called ne^xt, — are we prepared ? If we are, it will be well 
with us, if not, why do we sit still? Let us arise, and delay no longer; 
for death may be near. Perhaps you will say ' Lydia has forgotten 
herself.' No, I have not. I am writing to one for whose spiritual, 
as well as temporal welfare, I am interested. I long to have you 
love God ; who is so worthy of our love as our Maker ? How hard 
must be our hearts not to love Christ, who, for the love he had for us, 
suffered and died an ignominious death. It was our sins that cruci- 
fied the Lord of glory. O my friend, do taste and see how gracious 
the Lord is ; he is infinitely gracious, he is willing to receive the 



532 MEMOIRS OF 

greatest of sinners. Fly then, my dear friend, to Christ without de- 
lay, for he is standing with open arms to receive you. If you go 
to him you will never be sorry. O, what are the pleasures of this 
world, when compared with those of religion ? They are nothing but 
vanity." 

On another occasion she writes thus : " I do feel that life is short. 
In a moment I may be called to exchange worlds. Happy should 
I feel if I could say, I am prepared to meet my God, whenever he 
should be pleased to call for me. God has long been sparing us, 
long reaching out to us the hand of mercy. Shall we, can we be so 
ungrateful ? Shall we dare disobey his commands, who is able to de- 
stroy the soul and body forever ? Do we not daily feel that there is 
no peace, no happiness to be found in the world ? Why then not 
seek it where it is to be found ? We see those who are interested 
in Jesus are happy. They speak of the goodness of their God, and 
show by their happy countenances that they possess something that 
the world knows not of. O that it were in my power to say some- 
thing to impress you more with eternal things. O the love of Christ, 
it is wonderous ! And can our hearts remain unmoved by such love ? 
O let us resolve to spend the rest of our days in his service." 

The following serious reflections were made on hearing a sermon 
from Isaiah xxxviii. 1. " Set thy house in order, for thou shalt die, 
and not live." " It has been some time since my heart has been so 
much affected. O my dear friend, are we prepared to die ? Are our 
hearts renewed by the Holy Spirit? Have we chosen the one thing 
needful ? Are we the friends of God, or of the world ? These are 
questions which ought to be asked by every one. Is it not strange 
we should spend so much of our time in frivolous pursuits ? O let 
us devote much of our time to prepare to meet the king of terrors. 
He may come in an hour we look not for him — Let us flee the wrath 
to come." 

From about this time she resolved to enter more fully, and undivi- 
dedly into the service of God. She began to attend social, as well as 
public meetings among the Methodists, and found much encourage- 
ment from hearing others speak of the dealings of God with their 
souls ; and it was not far from this time that she received a full and 
satisfactory evidence of her acceptance with God, and the witness of 
the blessed Spirit that her heart was renewed by grace. Whatever 
might have been her former state and enjoyment, this had been want- 
ing to afford her permanent and constant satisfaction and enjoyment 
in the way of religious duty. In a letter dated June 18, 1819, she 
writes as follows : — " I derive much benefit from attending class- 
meetings. It is encouraging to hear others speak of God's dealings 
with their souls. O for more engagedness, for more zeal. If Chris- 
tians remain in supineness they cannot expect to prosper. I have too 
much of a man-fearing spirit, am too unwilling to take up my cross. 
When I can take it up, I feel so happy I think I shall never shun it 



MISS LYDIA B. LEAVITT. 533 

again. But I am prone to forget my blessed Savior, to look for help 
from creatures. Yet I do bless the Lord for his goodness to one so 
ungrateful. I must, I will devote myself more to his service, and give 
him my whole heart." That she experienced trials and temptations 
in common with other Christians, will also appear from her letters to 
the same female friend, "You have no idea how I feel — Can it be 
possible I have been deceived, that I have no religion? Can I rest in 
this situation ? O no, I cannot, I will not rest without an evidence that 
my sins are pardoned," &c. Although grievously tempted, she did 
not give up her hope in the Savior, but appears to have obtained a 
full and satisfactory confidence in him. In her letters after this she 
generally expresses a deep sense of dependence on God, and a long- 
ing desire for a deeper work of grace in her own heart, and to see it 
revive among those around her. Her reflections on the lives and 
duties of professors, show a mind deeply impressed, and well inform- 
ed with gospel truth. — The following extracts will give her views and 
feelings on these subjects. " I see more and more the need of con- 
stant prayer and watchfulness. If I for a moment trust to my own 
strength, I am gone. O, how dependent are we on God for every 
mercy. Hold thou me up, O God, and I shall be safe. Save, 
Lord, or I must perish. What great danger there is of building on 
false hopes, of trusting in something short of Christ the only true 
foundation. How close, how diligent should we be in self-examina- 
tion, and in comparing ourselves daily with the word of God. How 
dreadful would be our condition were we to pass through life suppo- 
sing ourselves safe, but at last find ourselves deceived. But I think 
it almost impossible for one who truly desires to know the truth, who 
dreads deception, who prays, and carefully examines his own heart, 
to remain long without knowing his true state." — " How strange, how 
lamentable is the conduct of many who profess to be interested in 
Christ. How little do most professors do for the glory of God. Can 
it be possible for such to be sincere, who remain inactive, or go in 
opposition to the commands of God, who indulge in trifling and van- 
ity, and rarely ever speak of the goodness of God ? May I not apply 
this to myself? O when will the time come when I shall be entirely 
devoted to religion ? When feel the continual witness of the Spirit, 
and rejoice continually in the light of my Father's countenance ?" 
Yet again — " O when shall we be more like our blessed Savior? 
When shall we live as we ought ? Is it not high time to awake out 
of sleep ? How soon we may be called to give up our accounts, we 
know not — perhaps ere the light of another day ; let us then give all 
diligence to make our calling and election sure." 

Towards the close of life, before her last sickness, she appears to 
have had a deep and almost constant sense of the dissolving nature 
of our earthly tabernacles, which connect time with eternity, the vis- 
ible with the invisible world, and often expressed this to her Chris- 
tian friends, and that the root of all her religion, all her hopes, war. 



534 MEMOIRS, &C. 

in Jesus Christ, the divine and glorious Savior. When sickness 
came it did not find her unprepared, but she viewed it as a prelude 
to the fall of the earthly tabernacle, and the entrance on the blessed 
scenes of her immortal existence. Patience had its perfect work. 
Faith was in constant exercise. Hope remained firm and unshaken. 
Love became more and more evidently perfected. It was indeed 
a very affecting sight to her friends, to see her patiently enduring her 
severe afflictions without murmuring or complaint, and expressing no 
other desire but that the will of God might be done. Her advices 
to her family relatives and her Christian friends, were deeply inter- 
esting and impressive, and we trust will long be recorded in their 
memories, and prove a comfort and benefit to them through life, and 
in their dying moments. When she was thought to be near her end, 
she desired a Christian friend and neighbor might be called in to 
sing that hymn which begins thus — " In hope of seeing Jesus, when 
all my conflicts cease," &c. 

Her happy soul was transported with a view of that glory which 
unfolded itself to her ravished eyes, and she passed serenely the 
iron gates of death to the portals of everlasting bliss. As she pos- 
sessed so many amiable qualities and accomplishments, some thought 
she could not need a change of heart to be a good Christian. But 
happily such were not her own views. Although the change might 
not appear as visible as in many, yet her happy soul felt, and humbly 
acknowledged the power of changing grace. From her intimate 
knowledge of the doctrines and precepts of religion, and her close 
walk with God, proceeded that uniform spirit and practice of piety 
which caused her to be beloved by the pious, to be revered by the 
irreligious, and to be esteemed by all ; and which has caused many 
to exclaim, " Let my last end be like hers." 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. 5.— 1822, 



535 



MISS ELIZABETH HOUGH. 



Miss Elizabeth Hough was born in Fayette county, Pennsyl- 
vania, on the 30th of May, 1797, of highly respectable parents, of 
the society of Quakers. Her father, the late Benjamin Hough, Esq. 
of Chilicothe, a gentleman of amiable character, and greatly respect- 
ed by his extensive acquaintance, filled various important offices in 
in the State of Ohio ; particularly as a member of the Legislature, 
and as Auditor of the State. On his appointment to the latter office, 
in the year 1808, Mr. Hough, with his family, removed from Steu- 
benville to Chilicothe, at that time the seat of government of the 
State. 

Of the early life of Miss Hough, nothing remarkable is recollect- 
ed. She often suffered much from a peculiar affliction in the glands 
her mouth and neck, to which she was subject from her birth. She 
was thereby frequently prevented from partaking of the pleasures and 
amusements, in which her useful associates and acquaintances were 
engaged ; and sometimes felt a disposition to repine at her lot, and 
murmur on account of it — particularly as she had not even the hope 
of obtaining relief from her affliction. She occasionally attended the 
public worship of God in the Presbyterian Church ; but the truths 
of the gospel do not appear to have made any lasting impression on 
her mind. It is not known that she felt any unusual concern for the 
salvation of her soul, until she was in the twenty first year of her age. 
It was in the summer of the year 1818, a short time before the 
commencement of the memorable revival of religion in Chilicothe, 
that the spirit of God wrought in the mind of Miss Hough, a convic- 
tion of her lost and dangerous state by nature, and she was brought 
to feel her need of a Savior. The manner of her conviction may 
afford additional encouragement to Christians, to recommend religion 
by precept as well as by example. There lived at this time, in the 
family of Mr. Hough, as a boarder, a young gentleman who had 
recently been made a subject of divine grace, and obtained a knowl- 
edge of Christ through the remission of sins. Feeling an earnest 
desire for the salvation of others, particularly his intimate acquain- 
tances, he sought opportunities to converse with them about religion. 
With a countenance and voice which bespoke his anxious concern 
for Miss Hough's spiritual welfare, he remarked to her, one day, as 
she passed him in the entry of her father's house, " What a pity it 
ivould he, if, after suffering so much affliction in this life, you should 
be miserable to all eternity /" These few words were the most ef- 
fectual sermon she had ever before heard. She heard them with 



536 MEMOIRS OF 

apparent indifference ; but after retiring to her room, the Spirit of God 
applied them with force to her heart and conscience. She endeavored 
to banish the thought; yet still the words seemed to be sounding in her 
ears — " What a pity ! if, after suffering so much affliction in this lifej 
you should be miserable to all eternity .'" She tried to divert her 
mind, and shake off those serious reflections ; but her efforts were 
unavailing. The Spirit of God had fastened conviction on her mind ; 
and the rays of Divine light which shone into her soul, gave her a clear 
discovery of her lost and undone condition, without a Savior. She 
saw and felt that she was a sinner, and that, as such, the wrath of 
God was hanging over her; and now she was brought to cry, in the 
bitterness of her soul, " God be merciful unto me a sinner !" Tears 
of penitence and sighs of distress evinced the anguish of her soul. 
Feeling now her need of spiritual instruction, and of religious so- 
ciety, she attended the public worship of God in the Methodist Epis- 
copal Church, where she heard the doctrines of free grace — repen- 
tance, and salvation by faith, illustrated and enforced greatly to her 
encouragement and comfort. About three weeks after her convic- 
tion, being satisfied with the doctrines and discipline of the church, 
she united herself to it. A few days after this, while prostrate before 
God in her room, praying and crying to Him in the deepest anguish 
of mind, for deliverance from the guilt and burthen of sin, she was 
enabled by faith to venture her all upon Christ for salvation, and in- 
stantly experienced the pardoning mercy of God. Her distress and 
anguish were in a moment removed, and her soul truly filled with that 
joy which is " unspeakable and full of glory." In the fulness of her 
soul, she immediately proclaimed to her friends and acquaintances, 
what great things God had done for her — the change which she ex- 
perienced — the happiness she felt. She rejoiced greatly in God her 
Savior, and 

" Jesus all the day long, 
Was her joy and her song." 

From the time of her conversion, she entered with delight upon 
the practice of the duties of religion ; and from thenceforth, to the 
day of her death, continued to adorn her profession by a " Godly 
walk and chaste conversation ;" attending on all the ordinances of 
God's house ; and recommending, by precept and example, that 
religion which was now 

" The joy and delight of her heart." 

Her faith was strong, and in continual exercise : whereby she was 
enabled to walk in the light of God's countenance, and to " ask and 
receive that her joy might be full" Ofttimes has she been so over- 
whelmed with a sense of the presence and love of God, as to sink 
nerveless to the floor. In the ardor and fervency of her soul, she 
experienced how inadequate language is to describe the fulness of 



MISS ELIZABETH HOUGH. 537 

joy, the " peace which passeth all understanding," which she felt, 
As " out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh ;" so it 
was her delight to converse about the things of God and of eternity. 
She regularly attended her class-meetings, whenever practicable. 
She greatly loved this excellent means of grace ; and the rational 
account which she gave, from time to time, of her experience in the 
things of God, was rendered a blessing to her classmates. Thus it 
appeared that God in His wisdom was preparing our afflicted young 
sister, gradually for that " rest which remaineth for the people of 
God," and into which she was shortly to enter. 

Tn the early part of the year 1819, Mr. Hough, with his family, 
removed from Chilicothe to his seat in the country, about two miles 
distant ; where, in the month of September following, he died leav- 
ing a large family of children, most of them young. — This was a 
very painful dispensation of Divine Providence to the whole family, 
but peculiarly so to Elizabeth, who from her affliction, seemed more 
dependent on the protection and support of her father than any of 
the family. But her religion taught her submission to the will of 
Heaven. 

In the month of August, 1821, she was attacked with a bilious 
intermitting fever, which in a few days brought her down to the gates 
of death. The violence of the disease then somewhat abating, and 
some favorable symptoms taking place, hopes were entertained by her 
friends for her recovery. But the vital functions were too far im- 
paired ; her constitution, which had always been delicate, received a 
shock from which it could not recover. She lingered until the fifth 
of October, when life, as it were, gradually ebbed out, and she ex- 
pired without any apparent pain, in the twenty fifth year of her age. 

In the beginning of her affliction, she passed through some painful 
exercises of mind, concerning her spiritual state. The adversary of 
souls thrust sore at her, and for some days her mental conflicts were 
severe. But He who " knoweth how to deliver the godly out of 
temptation," delivered her. About four weeks before her death, 
while struggling in the strength of faith and prayer, the " snare of 
the fowler" was in a moment broken ; her captive soul was liberated, 
and filled with that " love which casteth out fear," — with " all the 
fulness of God" She instantly raised her feeble hands and voice 
in shouts of praise to God. She seemed truly overwhelmed with a 
sense of the presence and love of God ; and ceased not, when her 
strength would permit, to talk in rapturous strains of the wonders of 
redeeming love, and the glories of a future state of blessedness, 
Many of her friends and acquaintances in Chilicothe went out daily 
to see her, to all of whom she spoke with such earnestness and 
sweetness concerning their souls, and of the love of God, as failed not 
to touch their hearts. 

She continued in this happy frame of mind till the day of her 
death ; although for the last (ew days, her strength was so far ex- 

68 



538 MEMOIRS, &C. 

hausted that she talked but little. During her illness she was visited 
occasionally by the Rev. James Quinn, stationed preacher in the 
Chilicothe station. Of those interviews the following account will 
conclude this memoir. 

" I made two or three visits to our dear sister, Elizabeth Hough 5 
during the lime of her last affliction, and always found her mind 
calmly stayed on God, 6 knowing in whom she had believed.' On my 
first visit, when I entered her room, with a heavenly smile on her 
countenance, she said, — ' Oh brother Quinn, how I longed to see 
you, to tell you how good the Lord is to my poor soul. I have suf- 
fered great pain, but have had glorious times. My mind has been 
stayed on God, and he has kept my soul in perfect peace.' I said, 
* do you feel, my sister, that the sting of death is drawn ?' She re- 
plied, ' O yes ! and thanks be to God, 1 have the victory through our 
Lord Jesus Christ? Whilst we sung a hymn and joined in prayer, 
it seemed as if her happy soul was filled with divine raptures, and lost 
in the vision of God. Stephen like, she seemed to be looking up 
steadfastly into heaven. Never shall I forget the expressive, yet in- 
expressible lustre which shone in her countenance, while she ex- 
pressed herself to this effect : — ' Oh ! it is better to depart and be 
with Christ— I have a better and an enduring substance — I love my 
blessed Lord, and He loves me — He is mine and I am His — Oh 
glory ! glory \ — praise the Lord, O my soul.' 

" On my second and third visits, I found her still in the same tran- 
quil, happy frame of mind. She observed, on my last visit, that she 
had not such soul ravishing views at all times ; but that her soul rested 
in peace, resigned ; and that her confidence in God her Redeemer, 
remained firm and unshaken !' I was not with her when she took 
her exit ; but learn from her mother, that she contiuued in the same 
serene and happy frame, until, without a struggle or groan, she slept 
in Jesus." 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. V.— 1822. 



539 



MRS. SALLY RUNDAL. 



Mrs. Sally Rundal was born Dec. 27th, 1798. Her parents 
were among the first who embraced the religion of Jesus, in that part 
of the country, under the great revival of religion which has been 
progressing under the Methodist ministry for upwards of fifty years 
in America. Notwithstanding the opposition they then encountered 
from almost all sorts of people, the obloquy thrown upon them by 
the thoughtless and designing, the parents of Mrs. Rundal, being 
convinced of the truth as it is in Jesus, broke through every oppos- 
ing barrier, and steadfastly persevered bearing the cross of Jesus 
Christ. They endeavored to educate their children in the same 
principles by which they regulated their own conduct ; and they 
have had the happiness of seeing most of them, who have arrived to 
a mature age, become the followers of Christ. 

She embraced religion in her youth, and evinced the sincerity of 
her profession by walking blamelessly in the ordinances of Christ. 
In her twenty-first year she commenced a Diary, noting in a very 
particular manner the secret exercises of her heart, and the dealings 
of God, in his Providence and grace, towards her. A few extracts 
follow : — 

" May 2, 1819. — I have this day been privileged with hearing 
the word of God preached from these words — c So run that ye may 
obtain.' But the stupidity of my heart, how great ! Lord help me 
from this evening to arise, and so to run that I may obtain the bles- 
sed crown which is prepared for the righteous. If I ever felt a de- 
sire to be holy I do now. O Lord, grant me the answer of my 
prayer, and conform me in all things to thy will. 

" May 7. — I feel this evening that Jesus is mine and I am his. 
O that I may enjoy His smiles continually, and ever look to Him 
for strength to withstand the temptations of the adversary, and the 
besetments of this vain world." 

" May 23. — I have again had the privilege of meeting with the fol- 
lowers of Jesus, and glory be to His name, He condescended to be 
one in our midst ; and T felt that it was none other than thehouse of 
God and the gate of Heaven." 

" July 8. — I have an unshaken confidence in God this mornings 
and his Spirit bearing witness with my spirit, that I am His. But 1 
do not feel satisfied without the witness of perfect love. 

' l want thy life, thy purity, 

Thy righteousness! brought in ! 
1 ask, desire, ami long to be, 

Redeemed from all sin "* 



540 MEMOIRS OF 

This appears to have been the continual language of her heart un- 
til her marriage, which took place Dec. 6, 1820, after which she 
kept no regular record of her experiences. She gave her hand in 
marriage to Mr. Jacob Rundal, and she became, in consequence, the 
step-mother of three children, which he had by a former wife. 
This sudden transition from a single state, in which she enjoyed all 
the comforts of life without any forethought of her own, to a married 
state, and to the duties of a mother, gave her an opportunity to dis- 
play the virtues of her character to still greater advantage ; and such 
were her qualifications for this new station, which involved such deli- 
cate and nice responsibilities, and such her conscientious diligence, 
that her Christian graces shone out with increased lustre, and fully 
confirmed the hopes of her friends, and satisfied the expectations of 
her husband. Neither did she enter into this state heedlessly, but 
" deliberately and in the fear of God." Previous to her marriage 
with Mr. Rundal, but while the match was pending, she observes in 
her Diary as follows : — 

" I have had some trials of late respecting my situation in life. 
Twenty-two years of my short life, have been spent in peace with 
my dear parents ; and I am now called to change it for one in which, 
if I do my duty, I can be more useful; but I feel that I need more 
of every grace to help me. O Lord ! I come to thee for direction. 
Make my duty plain before me, and guide my steps aright. It has 
been my prayer for some time that I might be more useful, and I 
feel it of importance to walk circumspectly before the world, that I 
may not bring a reproach upon the cause of God ; and if it is His 
will that I should take one who is worthy of my affections for my 
companion, I hope to resign myself entirely to His will in all things." 
Though she believed her marriage to be signally marked by divine 
Providence, she much regretted having to leave the neighborhood 
where she had enjoyed so many religious privileges, especially that 
of prayer-meetings, which she highly prized, because they had been 
the means of great good to her soul. But though in consequence 
of her removal from the scene of her youthful days, doubly endear- 
ed to her on account of her religious enjoyments, she continued in 
the faith of the Gospel and the fellowship of the saints. The domes- 
tic circle in which she moved was adorned by her propriety of de- 
meanor, the sweetness of her temper and the urbanity of her man- 
ners ; and her value was enhanced by the assiduity with which she 
attended to the conjugal and maternal duties. She marked, with 
scrupulous exactness, any spiritual declension, which she at any 
time suffered, and immediately " flew back to Christ the way :" and 
whenever her circumstances did not forbid it, she attended the wor- 
ship of God with the same ardor of devotion by which she was be- 
fore distinguished c Here, in the sanctuary of the Lord, she found 
great delight. 



MRS. SALLY RUNDAL. 541 

She lived three years after her marriage, and became the mother 
of two children ; the last of which was ushered into this world but a 
few days before its mother, by an inscrutable, but just and merciful 
Providence, was summoned out of it. The morning after her con- 
finement she seemed unusually comfortable, and continued so until 
Tuesday, the third day of her illness, when symptoms of an ap- 
proaching fever became evident ; and on Thursday morning they 
became somewhat alarming, the fever increasing with great violence. 
Although suffering most exquisitely from bodily pain, her mind was 
kept, by the grace of God, in great tranquillity. On being asked by 
one of her sisters, if she felt resigned to the will of God, her reply, 
with much emphasis, was, " O yes, Come life or death." In this 
enviable state of mind she continued through the day, frequently ex- 
pressing her gratitude to God for His condescension to her, saying, 
" I find it good to suffer the will of my Heavenly Father." 

On Friday morning she said to her physician, " You have no idea 
that I shall live long, have you, Doctor !" He answered, Very little. 
" Well," said she, " Let the Lord do with me as it seemeth to Him 
best." Observing one of her sisters weeping, she said, " Why do 
you weep for me ? I never expect to shed another tear — for sor- 
row and sighing have fled away." On Saturday morning her coun- 
tenance assumed a death-like appearance, and it was evident it 
could not be far off. At her request the members of the family 
were called together, and she spoke to them individually, exhorting 
them with great fervor, pressing upon the children especially the ne- 
cessity of seeking an interest in Christ in the days of their youth. 

About twelve o'clock of this day Satan was permitted for a season 
to interrupt her tranquillity, it being suggested "you are deceiving 
yourself." She seemed for a few moments in a mental agony, ex- 
claiming, " O my unfaithfulness ! surely the Lord would be just, in 
banishing me from his presence. Perhaps I am deceiving myself 
in a dying hour." She entreated her father and others present, to 
unite their prayers in her behalf, that the Lord might restore her 
peace. It seemed, indeed, as if the powers of darkness were now 
permitted to exert all their diabolical influence against this child of 
grace, this heir of glory. But their malice was vain. The Lord 
who sitteth in the heavens laughed to scorn their cruel power. In 
answer to prayer, the clouds in a few moments were dispersed from 
her mind, and she joyfully exclaimed, " Jesus is mine, and I am his ! 
O ! how I want strength to shout the praises of my God. This is the 
last conflict I am to have with the adversary. Oh ! could I tell you 
but one half of what I feel, how you would rejoice !" 

One of her sisters with her husband being arrived, he said, " I am 
glad to see you, but sorry to sec you so distressed in body." She 
seemed somewhat surprised, and said, " I never was so happy in my 
life. I am just going to lake possession of my inheritance." This 
was about one hour previous to her death. Being informed that she 



542 MEMOIRS, &C. 

could live but a short time, she observed, smilingly," " Tell all 
my friends, when they see the breath leave the body, to shout glory ! 
for I shall then be in glory." She remained perfectly sensible to 
the last moment of her existence. To her father she said about fif- 
teen minutes before her spirit departed, " Soon papa you will have 
another child in heaven." With a countenance beaming with joy, 
she raised her hands, and clasping them together, exclaimed — and 
these were the last words she was heard to articulate — " O ! blessed 
Jesus," and so fell asleep in the arms of her Beloved, Nov. 1, 1822, 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. 7—1824. 



543 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN, 

A CHEROKEE FEMALE. 

ma -^ c» 

Catharine Brown was born about the year 1800. The place 
of her nativity was a beautiful plain, covered with tall forest trees, 
in a part of the Cherokee country now called Wills-Valley, within 
the chartered limits of Alabama. Her father's Cherokee name was 
Yctu-nu-gung-ycih-ski, which signifies the drowned by a bear ; but he 
was known among the whites by the name of John Brown. Her 
mother's Indian name was Tsa-luh : the whites called her Sarah. Nei- 
ther of her parents understood the English language, and of course 
could neither read nor write ; when the missionaries first saw them they 
had few ideas on the subject of religion. 

It is natural to suppose that Catharine possessed no more religious 
knowlege than her parents. She was, indeed, until her removal to 
Brainerd, deplorably ignorant. 

Her ideas of God extended little further than the contemplation 
of him as a great Being, existing somewhere in the sky ; and her 
conceptions of a future state were quite undefined. Of the Savior 
of the world, she had no knowledge. She supposed that the Cher- 
okees were a different race from the whites, and therefore had no 
concern in the white people's religion : and it was some time before 
she could be convinced, that Jesus Christ came into the world to die 
for the Cherokees. She has been known, also to remark, subse- 
quently to her conversion, that she was much afraid, when she first 
heard of religion ; for she thought Christians could have no pleasure 
in this world, and that, if she became religious, she too should be 
rendered unhappy. 

Her morals, however, were always irreproachable ; which is re- 
markable, considering the looseness of the manners then prevalent 
among the females of her nation, and the temptations to which she 
was exposed, when, during the war with the Creek Indians, the army 
of the United States was stationed near her father's residence. 

Were it proper to narrate some well authenticated facts, with 
reference to this part of her history, the mind of the reader would 
be filled with admiration of her heroic virtue, and especially of the 
protecting care of Providence. Once she even forsook her home, 
and fled into the wild forest, to preserve her character unsullied. 

These occurrences took place before the establishment of a school 
at Brainerd, while Catharine was young, ignorant of the world, with- 
out any clear views of morality, and destitute of the knowledge and 
love of God : Strange that so great a sense of character should then 



544 



MEMOIRS OF 



have influenced her resolutions ! But she was a chosen vessel of 
mercy, and a hand, which she then knew not was doubtless extended 
for her preservation. 

In the autumn of 1816, the Rev. Cyrus Kingsbury made his ap- 
pearance before a general council of the Cherokees, and offered, in 
behalf of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Mis- 
sions, to establish schools among them. This offer was favorably 
received, and early in the following spring, a school was opened at 
Chickamaugah, since called Brainerd. Tidings of this came to the 
ears of Catharine, then a hundred miles distant, and excited in her a 
desire to attend the school. She besought her parents to send her, 
and they granted her request. Accordingly, on the 9th of July 1817, 
being about 17 or 18 years of age she became a member of the 
establishment. 

Thus was she brought, for the first time, within the sphere of 
Christian instruction. Even then she was an interesting girl ; her 
complexion blooming; her features comely; her person erect, and 
of the middle stature ; her manners easy ; her demeanor modest 
and prepossessing. 

" It was however, manifest," says Mr. Kingsbury, " that with all 
her gentleness and apparent modesty, she had a high opinion of her- 
self, and was fond of displaying the clothing and ornaments, in which 
she was arrayed. At our first interview, I was impressed with the 
idea that her feelings would not easily yield to the discipline of our 
schools, especially to that part of it, which requires manual labor of 
the scholars. This objection I freely stated to her, and requested 
that, if she felt any difficulty on the subject, she would seek admis- 
sion to some other school. She replied, that she had no objection to 
our regulations. I advised her to take the subject into consideration, 
and to obtain what information she could, relative to the treatment 
of the scholars, and if she then felt a desire to become a member 
of the school, we would receive her. She joined the school, and 
the event has shewn, that it was of the Lord, to the end that his name 
might be glorified." 

Some time before going to Brainerd, it is not known precisely 
how long, while residing at the house of a Cherokee friend, she had 
learned to converse in the English language, on common subjects and 
to read words of one syllable. 

These acquisitions, which were of no particular service at that 
time they were made, are to be noticed with gratitude to God, as 
the probable means of leading her to Brainerd. They excited de- 
sires which she could gratify no where else. 

Her teachers declare, that from her first admission to the school, 
she was attentive to her learning, industrious in her habits, and re- 
markably correct, in her deportment. From reading in words of 
one syllable, she was able, in sixty days, to read intelligibly in the 
Bible, and, in ninety days, could read as well as most persons of 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 545 

common education. After writing over four sheets of paper, she 
could use her pen with accuracy and neatness, even without a copy. 

Catharine had not heen long in the school, before divine truth be- 
gan to exert an influence on her mind. This was manifested by a 
tenderness of spirit, and an increased desire to become acquainted 
with the Christian religion. The same effects were also observed 
in two or three other Cherokees. She did not seem to be greatly 
influenced by a fear of the punishment threatened against sin. She 
rather seemed to be anxious to know the will of God and to do it. 
The reading of the Scriptures, singing and prayer, occupied much 
of her time, and often was she affected to tears ; while her whole 
deportment, as a member of the family, was unexceptionable. In 
December IS 17, she indulged a hope, that she had been pardoned 
and accepted, through the Lord Jesus Christ. Of her own accord, 
she began very soon to pray with her associates, and to assist in 
teaching the Lord's Prayer and the catechism to the younger girls in 
the school. Greatly did she desire the salvation of her people. For 
them she wept and prayed, in secret places, and in the company of 
her female friends at their weekly prayer-meetings. 

Among the rest, the case of her brother David, then on the Ar- 
kansas river, was specially interesting. One morning, having retir- 
ed to the neighboring woods for devotion, she became so deeply en- 
gaged in prayer for this dear brother, that the time passed insensi- 
bly, and she remained in her sacred retreat till the sun was near set- 
ting. She had been favored with unusual nearness of access to her 
heavenly Father, and returned home with an humble confidence, that 
He would fully answer her prayers. After David had gone to New 
England to complete his education, having previously given satisfac- 
tory evidence of piety, she related these facts to a confidential friend, 
and said she wished to remember them with gratitude. 

At the commencement of the year 1818, an event occured, which 
shewed how much Catharine was attached to the society and the 
privileges enjoyed at Brainerd. Her father, designing to remove 
with his family beyond the Mississippi, came to take her from the 
school. The prospect of a separation was equally painful to Cath- 
arine and to the misssionaries. They regarded her as the first fruit 
of their missionary labor, and loved her not only on that account, but 
also on account of her pious and amiable conduct. On her part, the 
affection was not less stroiis; ; and besides, she felt herself too weak 
to leave the society of God's people, and go into the howling wilder- 
ness alone. 

She desired to receive, before her departure, the seal of the cov- 
enant of grace, in the holy ordinance of baptism. This request was 
cheerfully granted ; and, on the 25th of January 1818, in the pres- 
ence of a large and solemn assembly, she consecrated herself to the 
service of Christ. She then accompanied her father to his distant 
abode. 

69 



546 MEMOIRS OF 

But circumstances prevented the immediate removal of her par- 
ents, and she was permitted to revisit Brainerd for the purpose of 
spending a few months more on that hallowed ground. Her re- 
turn furnished an opportunity to admit her to full communion in the 
visible church, which was done on the 19th of March, and the sol- 
emn covenant with the Most High was ratified at the communion 
table. 

In this abstract, many facts worthy of insertion must be omitted. 
We have space only for the more prominent events in her interesting 
career. 

The time subsequent to her return fled rapidly away, in pious 
employments and Christian intercourse, and brought the expected, 
dreaded separation. It shall be described in the words of those 3 
who, next to the lovely sufferer, felt it most. 

" November 4. — The parents of Catharine Brown called on us. 
They are on their way to the Agency. The old grey-headed man, 
with tears in his eyes, said he must go over the Mississippi. The 
white people would not suffer him to live here. They had stolen 
his cattle, horses, and hogs, until he had very little left. He expect- 
ed to return from the Agency, in about ten days, and should then 
want Catharine to go home, and prepare to go with him to the Ar- 
kansas. We requested him to leave his daughter with us yet a little 
while, and go to the Arkansas without her ; and we would soon send 
her to him, with much more knowledge than she now has. To this 
lie would not consent ; but signified a desire, that some of us would 
go along with him. It is a great trial to think of sending this dear 
sister away with only one year's tuition ; but we fear she must go. 
The Lord can and will order otherwise, if, on the whole, it is for 
the best." 

While her parents were gone to the Agency, she made a farewell 
visit to Springplace, the seat of the Moravian mission, thirty-five miles 
distant. She returned to Brainerd on the 9th; and, on the 20th the 
missionaries thus describe her removal. 

"We had a very affectionate scene, in the departure of our sister 
Catharine. Her father and mother, returning from the Agency to 
go to the Arkansas, stopped yesterday for the purpose of taking her 
with them. She knew that she needed more information to be pre- 
pared to go alone into the wilderness, and intreated them to leave 
her with us a little longer. She is their only daughter,* and they 
would not consent on any terms. The struggle was very severe. 
She wept and prayed, and promised to come to them, as soon as 
she had finished her literary education, and acquired some further 
knowledge of the Christian religion. We engaged that she should 



* Catharine had half-sisters, but was the only daughter of Mr. Brown by this 
marriage. 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 547 

be provided for while here, and assisted in going to them. Her 
mother said, she could not live, if Catharine would not now go with 
them. Catharine replied, that to her it would be more bitter than 
death to leave us, and go where there were no missionaries. Her 
father became impatient, and told her, if she would not mind him, 
and go with them now, he would disown her for ever, but if she 
would now go, as soon as missionaries came to the Arkansas, (and 
he expected they would be there soon,) she might go and live with 
them as long as she pleased. He wished her to have more learning. 

" Never before had this precious convert so severe a trial ; and nev- 
er, perhaps, did her grace shine so bright. She sought for nothing 
but to know her duty, and asked for a few minutes to be by herself 
undisturbed. She returned, and said she would go. After she had 
collected and put up her clothing, the family were assembled, a part- 
ing hymn was sung, and a prayer offered. With mingled emotions 
of joy and grief, we commended her to the grace of God, and they 
departed. 

" Precious babe in Christ ! a few months ago brought out of the 
dark wilderness ; here illuminated by the word and Spirit of God ; 
and now to be sent back into the dark and chilling shades of the for- 
est, without one fellow traveler, with whom she can say, ' Our Fa- 
ther !' O ye, who with delight sit under the droppings of the sanc- 
tuary, and enjoy the communion of saints, remember Catharine in 
your prayers." 

She departed, expecting to return no more. How like a Chris- 
tian she felt in view of this event, will further appear in extracts from 
her letters. 

To Mrs. Williams, who had removed from Brainerd to Elliot, she 
says : 

" I feel grieved when I think of leaving my Christian friends, and 
of going far from all religious people, into a wild howling wilderness, 
where no star shines to guide my wandering feet to the babe of 
Bethlehem ; where no warning voice is heard to keep me in the 
straight path that leads to heaven. When I look to that dark re- 
gion, I start back ; but when I think of my two brothers there, and 
my dear parents, who are soon to go, I feel reluctant to stay behind, 
and leave them to perish alone." 

To Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, at Brainerd, she writes, in a letter 
dated Fort Deposit, Dec. 12, 1818 : 

" I just sit down to address you with my pen. But is this all ? Am 
I so soon called to bid you adieu, and see your faces no more in this 
world ? O my beloved friends, you know not the love 1 bear to that 
blessed spot, where I have spent so many happy hours with you ; but 
it is past never to return. 

" Dear friends, J weep; my heart is full; tears flow from my eyes 
while I write; and why is it so ? Do T murmur? God forbid. Ought 
I not to praise the Lord for what I have received, and trust Him for 



548 MEMOIRS OF 

every thing ? O yes, his ways are best, and he ha? graciously prom- 
ised, that i all things shall work together for good to them that love 
him.' But do I love him ? Have I that love to him, which will ena- 
ble me to keep all his commandments ? Do 1 love him with all my 
heart ? O that the Lord would search me, and lead me in the way 
of eternal life. 

" Since I left you I have led a very lonesome life, and not heard the 
gospel preached but once ; that is when father Hoyt was here, and 
Milo. They came here on Tuesday evening. I was sitting in my 
room, and heard a knocking at the door. I bade them come in ; 
and who but Milo appeared. I inquired if any body was with him. 
He said his father was at the door. That rejoiced me very much, 
and I enjoyed very much while they were here. Blessed be God 
for sending them here to instruct us. 

" I am here amongst a wicked set of people, and never hear prayers, 
nor any godly conversation. O my dear friends, pray for me. 1 
hope you do. There is not a day passes but I think of you, and the 
kindness I received during the time I staid with you. It is not my 
wish to go to the Arkansas; but God only knows what is best for 
me. I shall not attempt to tell you what I have felt since I left you, 
and the tears I have shed when I called to mind the happy moments 
we passed in singing the praises of God. However, I bear it as well 
as I possibly can, trusting in our dear Savior, who will never leave 
nor forsake them, that put their trust in him. 

"It may be possible, that I may see you once more; it would be a 
great happiness to me if I don't go to the Arkansas ; perhaps I may ; 
but if I should go, it is not likely we shall meet in this world again : — 
but you will excuse me, for my heart feels what I cannot express 
with my pen." 

The precise influence of this trial upon herself, cannot be perhaps 
be determined, though doubtless it increased her faith and patience. 
But it was a great blessing to others, as it led the way to the for- 
mation of schools, and to the stated preaching of the gospel, at Creek 
Path, the place of her father's residence, arid to the hopeful conver- 
sion of nearly all her family ; thus illustrating the maxim, that our 
greatest blessings may spring from our severest afflictions. 

Her return was scarcely expected by the missionaries, when, on 
the 23d of May, 1819, her father brought her again to Brainerd, 
and committed her to their care until her education should be com- 
pleted, intending to remove immediately, with the remainder of his 
family, beyond the Mississippi. This purpose, as has been previous- 
ly intimated, was not executed. Mr. Brown did not proceed to the 
Arkansas country until more than four years after this time, and not 
till the beloved daughter, for whose society he was so desirous, had 
been laid in the dust. The causes of this delay are unknown to the 
author of this memoir. 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 549 

In 1819 Cathraine was joined by her brother David, who soon 
became seriously inclined, and before many months cordially assisted 
her in the work of doing good. In March 1820, a school having 
been requested by the chiefs at Creek Path, the Rev. Daniel S. 
Butrick repaired to that place. In May his school had so increased 
that there was no more room for other applicants; and the people de- 
sired another school. 

They said, if a female would come to instruct their daughters, 
they would build a school house for her. At the same time it was 
evident that a spirit of deep seriousness and anxious inquiry was be- 
ginning to prevail among them. 

These facts being known at Brainerd, the missionaries thought it 
their duty to advise Catharine to go and take charge of the contem- 
plated school. In this advice she acquiesced, though not without a 
painful diffidence of her qualifications for such a service. When it 
was known at Creek Path, that she was to take charge of the school, 
the most enthusiastic joy was occasioned among the people. They 
seemed to feel, that the preparations could not be made too soon. 
Not less than fifty Cherokee men, besides negroes and boys, assem- 
bled immediately to build a house which in two days, was nearly 
completed according to their stipulation. 

Every thing being in readiness, Mr. Brown came for his daughter, 
and on the last day in May, a little less than two years and eleven 
months from her first entering the school, as an untaught heathen 
girl, she bade an affectionate adieu to Brainerd, to take charge of 
the school for females near her paternal home. In her diary she 
thus briefly describes her journey. 

" May 31. — This morning I set out for Brainerd, with my dear fa- 
ther. Traveled about twenty miles. Thought much of my belov- 
ed christian friends. Whether I shall ever see them again is uncer- 
tain. The Lord only knows. 

"June 2. — Have been very sick to day; but, blessed be God, am 
now a little better. Hope I shall be able to travel to morrow. The 
Lord is very kind and merciful to all those, who put their trust in 
him. Last night I slept on the floor without any bed. Felt quite 
happy in my situation. Though very sick in body, yet I trust my 
heart was well. 

" 5. — Have arrived at my father's but am yet very unwell. Have 
a bad cold. Am sometimes afraid I shall not be able to leach 
school at Creek Path. We slept two nights on the ground with our 
wet blankets, before we reached our home." 

Catharine's school commenced with about twenty of the daugh- 
ters of the forest, and the number was speedily augmented. 

Not only the daughters but the mothers also manifested a strong de- 
sire to receive instruction. Several of her pupils, in consequence of 
previous tuition, could read in the Now Testament, when they came 
under her care= These it was her delight to lead to a more perfect 



550 MEMOIRS OF 

acquaintance, with that sacred volume. But most of the children 
began with the rudiments of learning. This school she continued 
three quarters of a year, much to the satisfaction of her scholars, 
their parents and the missionaries. She finally relinquished it only 
because the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Potter gave her an opportunity 
to surrender her charge into other hands, and at the same time open- 
ed the way for her prosecuting higher studies, with a view to greater 
usefulness to her people. 

The spirit of serious inquiry at Creek Path, to which there was 
an allusion at the close of the last chapter, increased after the arrival 
of Catharine, especially among her own kindred. Doubtless she 
was not backward, with the meekness of humility and with the ear- 
nestness of affection, to warn and exhort. And she had the joy of 
beholding her father, mother, a brother and two or three sisters, uni- 
tedly seeking the pardon of their sins, and that peace which the 
world giveth not. After a suitable trial, and due instruction, all 
these her relatives, with others of their countrymen, publicly pro- 
fessed faith in Christ, and were united to his visible church. 

In the spring of 1821, Mr. and Mrs. Potter spent two months in 
the family of Mr. Brown. Speaking of Catherine, Mrs. Potter 
says: 

" For sweetness of temper, meekness, gentleness and forbearance, 
I never saw one who surpassed her. To her parents she was uncom- 
monly dutiful and affectionate. Nothing which could contribute to 
their happiness, was considered a burden : and her plans were read- 
ily yielded to theirs, however great the sacrifice to her feelings. 
The spiritual interests of the family lay near her heart and she some- 
times spent whole evenings in conversation with them on religious 
subjects. 

" Before our arrival, she had established a weekly prayer meeting 
with the female members of the family, which was also improved 
as an opportunity for reading the word of God, and conversing upon 
its important truths. Such was her extreme modesty, that she did 
not make this known to me, until more than a week after my arrival ; 
and the usual period had passed without a meeting. She at length 
overcame her diffidence, and informed me what their practice had 
been, in a manner expressive of the most unfeigned humility. These 
meetings were continued while we remained in the family, and I be- 
lieve they were highly useful. A monthly prayer meeting among 
the sisters of the church was soon after established, in which Catha- 
rine took a lively interest ; nor did she ever refuse when requested 
to take an active part in the devotional exercises. 

" Soon after we removed to our station, Catharine became a mem- 
ber of our family, and of the school. All her energies were now 
bent towards the improvement of her mind, with a view to future 
usefulness among her people. Both in school, and in the family, her 
deportment was such as greatly to endear her to our hearts, and she 
was most tenderly loved by all the children." 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 551 

On the 2d of February 1822, her brother John died in the faith 
and hope of the Gospel. She had watched over him with great af- 
fection, on his journey to the grave, and has inserted in her diary, a 
simple but beautiful narrative of his sickness and death. 

In the fall of this year she left the family of Mr. Potter, to reside 
with her parents. Here she was seen by the Rev. Mr. Bascom, 
while on his journey through the Cherokee country, who thus speaks 
of his visit to her family. 

" We arrived after the family had dined, and she received us and 
spread a table for our refreshment, with the unaffected kindness of a 
sister. The gracefulness of her figure, and the sweetness of her 
expression, have often been the subject of remark ; and I was the 
more delighted with her humility, as I greatly feared I should discov- 
er an unhappy influence from the misjudged praise, which had been 
heaped upon her. The fact was, she gave me evidence, by her ha- 
bitual behavior, of being a sanctified child of God." 

Soon after this, the disease of which she died, began to assume 
an aspect, which excited some alarm. 

In consequence of this, she took a journey to Brainerd, in Febru- 
ary 1823, with the view of consulting Dr. Butler, a medical gentle- 
man residing at that station. She hoped also, to derive benefit from 
the journey. These hopes were disappointed. A cold, tempestu- 
ous storm arose, soon after she left home, to the whole of which she 
was unavoidably exposed ; and the slight cough to which she had 
for some time been subject, was very much increased. She spent 
three weeks at Brainerd, and then returned to Creek Path, intending 
to obtain permission from her parents to place herself again under 
the care of Dr. Butler. But her increased illness rendered her un- 
able to encounter the fatigues of another journey. 

We now come to the closing scenes in the life of Catharine, where 
her faith in her Savior was signally triumphant over the terror of the 
grave. 

After her return from Brainerd, she spent much time in reflecting 
on death and its consequences, and these subjects she not unfre- 
quently made the topics of conversation. One instance of this kind 
is described by Mrs. Potter. 

" Entering her room one evening at an early hour, I found she had 
retired with unusual debility. She requested me to read from some 
medical author the symptoms of consumption. I complied, and after 
comparing them with her own, she expressed a belief that she had 
that disease. I inquired what were her feelings in view of this con- 
clusion. She replied with tears, ' I am not prepared to die.' You 
have a hope, I said, of happiness beyond the grave? 'yes, I have a 
hope resting on the promises of the Savior : but I have been un- 
faithful !' 

" We were both too much affected to say more, and remained for 
some time silent. At length Catharine sweetly raised her voice and 



55% MEMOIRS OF 

said, < Sister Potter, how beautiful is this hymn :' and then she re- 
peated 

' Why should we start and fear to die ! 

What timorous worms we mortals are ! 
Death is the gate of endless joy, 

And yet we dread to enter there. 

' The pains, and groans, and dying strife 

Fright our approaching souls away ; 
Still we shrink back again to life, 

Fond of our prison and our clay, 

' Oh, if my Lord would come and meet, 
My soul should stretch her wings in haste 

Fly fearless through death's iron gate, 
Nor feel the terrors as she passed. 

' Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
"While on his breast I lean my head, 

And breathe my life out sweetly there.' 

" I inquired if she could adopt this as the language of her heart, 
and she answered with great meekness, that she hoped she could." 

It does not appear that after this, her mind was again seriously 
disturbed by apprehensions respecting her own future well being. 

But when she saw her aged parents in an infirm state of health, 
and needing all the attention of an affectionate daughter, and when, 
moreover, she reflected how many of her dear people remained ig- 
norant of the only Savior of sinners, she clung to life, and her ear- 
nest prayer was that she might recover. We are informed that her 
trials, from these sources were at one time very severe. 

She said to a beloved friend, * I know that it is my duty to submit 
entirely to the will of God. He can carry on his work without me. 
He can take care of my parents. Yet I am anxious to recover. I 
wish to labor more for my people.' 

On the 15th of May she was reduced very low by a hemorrhage 
from the lungs, and for a few days was viewed as being on the bor- 
ders of the grave. Remedies, however, were administered, which 
gave a temporary relief. The Rev. Mr. Bascom, who saw her 
again at this critical period, thus describes her appearance : 

" I have rarely, if ever, seen a more lovely object for the pencil, 
than she appeared to me on her dying bed. The natural mildness 
of her features seemed lighted with a beam of heavenly hope, and 
her whole aspect was that of a mature Christian, waiting, with filial 
patience, the welcome summons to the presence of her Lord." 

A request was immediately sent to Dr. Campbell, a kind friend 
of her family, that he would visit her immediately. He could not 
come till the 21st, by which time she was so enfeebled as to be un- 
able to raise herself without assistance. He gave it as his opin- 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 553 

ion, that she could live but a lew days, unless she were removed to 
Limestone, it being impossible for him to attend on her at so great a 
distance. 

Catharine could not endure the motion of a carriage. She was 
therefore carried in a litter six miles to the Tennessee river; thence 
she was taken in a boat, forty miles, to a village called Trianna ; and 
from thence, on a litter again, five miles to Limestone. Her people 
gave strong manifestations of affection for her, when she was about 
leaving Creek-Path. 

" Numbers," says Mrs. Potter, " assembled to take, as they fear- 
ed, and as it proved, a last look of their beloved friend. After a 
prayer, in which she was commended to the divine protection, the 
canoe was announced to be in readiness, and we followed the litter, 
borne by her affectionate people, to the river. Old and young were 
bathed in tears, and some were obliged to use their influence to pre- 
vent a general and loud lamentation. Catharine alone was calm, 
while she bade farewell to those she tenderly loved." 

Mr. Leech says, that small groups of her acquaintance were fre- 
quently seen on the road, waiting her approach. When she arrived 
where they were, they would hasten to the side of the litter, take her 
by the hand, and often walk away without speaking a word, the tears 
all the while rolling down their cheeks. 

Under the skilful care of Dr. Campbell, she soon began to amend, 
and hopes were entertained that she would even partially recover. 
She herself seemed desirous only that God might be glorified. Her 
friend Mrs. Potter, who visited her in this closing scene of her suffer- 
ings, thus speaks concerning her. 

While at Dr. Campbell's, I wrote a letter to her brother David, 
informing him of her illness. When about to close the letter, I went 
to her bed-side and said, ' Catharine, what shall I say to your broth- 
er for you ?' 

After a short pause, she replied, ' If you will write, I will dictate 
a short letter.' 

Then raising herself in the bed, and wiping away a tear, that was 
falling from her eye, she, with a sweet smile, began to relate what 
God had done for her soul while upon that sick bed. 

To my partial eye, she was, at that moment, an interesting spec- 
tacle, and f have often wished, that her portrait could then have been 
taken. Her countenance was softened with the affectionate remem- 
brance of an endeared brother, her cheek was a little flushed with 
the exertion of speaking ; her eye beamed with spiritual joy, and a 
heavenly smile animated the whole scene. I shall never forget it, 
nor the words she then whispered in my ear. 

The reader will naturally desire to see the letter, which was dic- 
tated and penned under circumstances so interesting. It was writ- 
ten in exact accordance with Catharine's dictation, and was as fol- 
lows : 

70 



554 MEMOIRS OF 

" Limestone, June 13, 1823. 

" My dear Brother, — Mrs. Potter has told you the particulars of 
my illness. I will only tell you what I have experienced on my 
sick bed. 

"I have found, that it is good for me to be afflicted. The Snv- 
ior is very precious to me. I often enjoy his presence, and I long 
to be where I can enjoy it without sin. I have indeed been brought 
very low, and did not expect to live until this time. But I have had 
joy, such as I never experienced before. I longed to be gone ; was 
ready to die at any moment. 

" I love you very much, and it would be a great happiness to me 
to see you again in this world. Yet I don't know that I shall. God 
only knows. We must submit to his will. We know, that if we 
never meet again in this world, the Lord has prepared a place in his 
heavenly kingdom, where I trust we shall meet, never to part. We 
ought to be thankful for what he has done for us. If he had not 
sent us the Gospel, we should have died without any knowledge of 
the Savior. 

"You must not be grieved, when you hear of my illness. You 
must remember, that this world is not our home, that we must all 
die soon. 

" I am here under the care of Dr. Campbell, and his very kind 
family. My mother and sister Susan are with me. Since I came 
here, I have been a great deal better, and the doctor sometimes gives 
encouragement of my getting well. But we cannot tell. I am will- 
ing to submit myself to the will of God. I am willing to die, or live ? 
as he sees best. 

"I know I am his. He has bought me with his blood, and I do 
not wish to have any will but his. He is good, and can do nothing 
wrong. I trust, if he spares my life, he will enable me to be faithful 
to his cause. I have no desire to live in this world, but to be enga- 
ged in his service. 

" It was my intention to instruct the people more than I had done, 
when I returned from Brainerd ; but when I got home, I was not able 
to do it. 

" It was a great trial to me not to be able to visit our neighbors^ 
and instruct them. But I feel that it is all right. It is my prayer 
that you may be useful, and I hope the Lord will make you useful 
to our poor people. 

" From your affectionate sister 

Catharine." 

The hopes of her recovery were of brief duration. 

Though every attention, which an unwearied kindness could be- 
stow, was given her, and prayer was offered continually on her be- 
half, her Lord and Master was pleased to hasten her departure. She 
had entered the last six weeks of her life, and thenceforward her de- 
scent towards the grave was regular and unremitted. 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 555 

Dr. Campbell now thought it his duty to inform her parents and 
herself, that his hopes, even of her partial recovery, were gone. 

Upon communicating this intelligence to her father, who a little 
before had come to Limestone, the good old man, after a solemn si- 
lence of several minutes, observed, " The Lord has been good to 
give me such a child, and he has a right to take her when he thinks 
best. But though it is my duty to give her up, it is hard to part 
with her." 

Catharine received the notice without manifesting the least alarm, 
only requesting the doctor to inform her, how long she might proba- 
bly live. 

On the morning of July 17th, she was supposed to have commen- 
ced her last agonies, and Dr. Campbell was immediately called to 
her bed-side. 

I found, says he, some appearance of anxiety on her countenance, 
which was the result of new sensations of bodily distress, and not of 
any agitation of mind. As soon as she could speak, (for she was 
sometimes speechless,) extending her hand to me, she calmly observ- 
ed, " I am gone." 

Some hours after this, when her distress returned, and her res- 
piration became very difficult and painful, she said, in reference to 
her sufferings, " What shall I do ?" I enquired, if, in this trying 
hour, she could not confidently rely on her Savior ? She answer- 
ed, "Yes." 

Through the day her mind was perfectly tranquil, and though sev- 
eral times, when her mother and friends were weeping about her, 
the tears would start into her eyes, she would quickly suppress them. 
She seemed to spend most of the time in prayer. 

The night was one of considerable distress, owing to her difficulty 
of breathing. In the morning she looked toward the window, and 
asked me if it was not day. I replied, that it was. She then turn- 
ed her eyes towards heaven, and an indescribable placidness spread 
over her countenance. 

Perhaps she thought, that the next morning she should behold, 
would be the morning of the resurrection. 

As death advanced, and the powers of nature gave way, she fre- 
quently offered her hand to the friends around her bed. Her moth- 
er and sister weeping over her, she looked steadily at the former, for 

a short time, filial love beaming from her eyes ; and then, she 

closed them in the sleep of death. 

She expired without a groan, or a struggle. Even those around 
the bed scarcely knew, that the last breath had left her, until I in- 
formed them she was gone. 

Thus fell asleep this lovely saint, in the arms of her Savior, a little 
past six o'clock, on the morning of July 18th, 1823. 

Her afflicted relatives conveyed her remains to Creek Path, where 
fhey were, on the 20th, deposited near the residence of her parents, 



556 MEMOIRS OF 

and by the side of her brother John, who had died about a year and 
a half before, in the triumphs of the same faith. 

Her age was about twenty-three ; and six years had elapsed from 
her first entering the school at Brainerd. She was then a heathen. 
But she became enlightened and sanctified, through the instrumen- 
tality of the Gospel of Jesus, preached to her by the missionaries of 
the cross ; and her end was glorious. 

A neat monument of wood, erected by her bereaved relatives, cov- 
ers the grave where she was laid. And though, a few years hence, 
this monument may no longer exist to mark the spot where she slum- 
bers, yet shall her dust be precious in the eyes of the Lord, and her 
virtues shall be told for a memorial of her. 

Such was Catharine Brown, the converted Cherokee. Such, too 
were the changes wrought in her, through the blessing of Almighty 
God on the labors of missionaries. They, and only they, as the in- 
struments of divine grace, had the formation of her Christian char- 
acter ; and that character, excellent and lovely as it was, resulted 
from the nature of their instructions. Her expansion of mind, her 
enlargement of views, her elevated affections, her untiring benevo- 
lence, are all to be traced, under God, to her intercourse with them. 
The glory belongs to God ; but the instrumental agency, the effective 
labor, the subordinate success, were theirs. 

In her history, we see how much can be made of the Indian char- 
acter. Catharine was an Indian. She might have said, as her 
brother did to thousands, while passing through these States. " Ab- 
original blood flows through my veins." True, it was not unmixed ; 
but the same may be affirmed of many others of her people. Her 
parentage, her early circumstances and education, with a few un- 
important exceptions, were like those of the Cherokees generally. 
She dwelt in the same wilderness, was conversant with the same 
society, was actuated by the same fears, and hopes, and expectations, 
and naturally possessed the same traits of character. Yet what did 
she become ! How agreeable as an associate, how affectionate as a 
friend, how exemplary as a member of the the domestic and social 
circle and of the Christian church, how blameless and lovely in all 
the walks of life ! Her Christian character was esteemed by all who 
knew her, while she lived, and will bear the strictest scrutiny, now 
she is dead. To such an excellence may the Indian character attain ; 
for, to such an excellence did it actually attain in her. 

And why may it not arrive at the same excellence in other Indians? 
Are there no other minds among them as susceptible of discipline 
and culture ? no other spirits, that, in the plastic hands of the Divine 
Agent, can receive as beautiful a conformation? Are there not dis- 
positions as gentle, hearts as full of feeling, minds as lively and strong? 
And cannot such minds be so fashioned and adorned, that heavenly 
grace shall beam as charmingly from them, as it did from hers ? 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 557 

The supposition, that she possessed mental and moral capabilities, 
which are rare among her people, while it adds nothing to our re- 
spect for her, does injustice to her nation. In personal attraction and 
in universal propriety of manner, she was, undoubtedly, much dis- 
tinguished. But, in amiableness of disposition, in quickness of ap- 
prehension, in intellectual vigor, it is believed there are hundreds of 
Cherokee youth, who are scarcely less favored. 

Catharine was not the only convert from her people. There have 
been others, both among the old and young, in whom similar trans- 
formations have been wrought. Her brother John was an instance. 
Her aged and venerable parents, who are much and justly respected 
by all who knew them, are instances. Others still might be named, 
were it not probable that these pages will fall under their notice. 
More than fifty Cherokees were added to the church, the first year 
after the decease of Catharine, the great proportion of whom adorn 
their profession in a manner resembling what we admire in her. 

It is hardly possible, indeed, that any of these converts should be- 
come so well known to our community as she was. Circumstances 
have changed. The novelty of Indian missions is gone. The mul- 
tiplication of converts diminishes our curiosity respecting individuals. 
But excellence and worth of character are none the less real for be- 
ing unnoticed and unknown. 

Here, then, we find encouragement. The success of past efforts 
has been rich in its nature, and animating in its amount ; and the 
same kind of instruments, increased in number, are still employed, 
and employed, too, upon similar materials. The course of divine 
grace, moreover, is, in some sense, uniform, like the course of nature; 
so that what Almighty God has done, in past time, is an earnest and 
a pledge (circumstances being the same,) of what he will do, in time 
to come. Upon these accounts, among others, we may cherish 
raised expectations. Should the enterprise which has been com- 
menced so auspiciously, be prosecuted with prudence, zeal, and in 
the fear of God, we shall not be extravagant if we look for the gene- 
ral prevalence of pure religion among a people, in the midst of 
whom, at die breaking up of their long night of paganism, this inter- 
esting female shone as a morning star. 

The present is emphatically the time for vigorous Christian effort. 
Probably it is the only time when great success is possible. Various 
unpropitious causes press heavily upon the poor Indians; and it is 
believed, that nothing will save them from extinction, as a people, 
but the general prevalence of true religion. All things else will be 
vain without this. 

The position, that civilization must prcecde Christianity, is so un- 
supported by facts, i^ so opposed to all experience, that one would 
hardly he advanced by enlighl med philosophers, or be received by 
rational Christians. What is civilization ? In Pagan and Moham- 
medan countries, it is, it ever has been, a state of society, where 



558 MEMOIRS OF 

moral excellence is little known, and domestic and social happiness 
little enjoyed ; where man is a lordly tyrant, and woman is a slave. 
True civilization is found only in Christian countries ; and no where, 
but as the result of Christianity ; of Christianity, too, planted, in the 
first instance, by missionary enterprise. 

Bring this religion to act strongly upon the Indians. Give them 
the full enjoyment of Christian ordinances. Then their ' winter will 
be past, the rain will be over and gone.' Agriculture, art, science, 
legislation, and literature, the germs of which already appear, will 
grow in rich luxuriance, and the Indian character will be respected 
by the nations of the earth. 

Let the life of Catharine Brown operate as an appeal to the be- 
nevolence of the Christian community. Though dead, she speaks : 
and oh, let her voice fall with persuasive and irresistible eloquence 
upon every ear. 

Shall her people, of whom, by the purifying and ennobling influ- 
ences of the Gospel, so much can be made, be abandoned to igno- 
rance and wo ? Shall beings who are capable of knowing God, of 
understanding the grand economy of his grace, of enjoying the im- 
perishable blessings of his salvation, be shut out eternally from such 
wisdom, and debarred forever from such enjoyment? 

Are they not susceptible of whatever is useful, and beautiful, and 
even sublime, in character ? Can they not appreciate, and will they 
not use, the means of Christian civilization, if placed within their 
reach ? 

And may we not expect an abundant reward ? Nay, have we 
not already been amply rewarded ? To say nothing of the impulse 
given to the intellect, the industry, and the enterprise, of the nation, 
to which the subject of this memoir belonged ; or of their accele- 
rated progress in legislation and government ; or of the amelioration 
in the habits and manners of their domestic and social life ; or of 
the rudiments of learning imparted to a multitude of children and 
youth ; or of the amount of sacred truth, the only means of conver- 
sion and sanctification, instilled into their minds ; or of an inheritance 
in the heavens secured to many souls : — to say nothing of all this, 
Were not the holy life and triumphant death of Catharine Brown, an 
ample remuneration for all the labors and expenditures of the mis- 
sion to her tribe ? 

Say, ye missionaries of the cross, should ye repent of your self- 
denying toils, if this had proved your only reward ? Say, ye churches 
of the Redeemer, would you recall her sainted spirit from the skies, 
if what ye have expended for her nation could be refunded ? A 
thousand worlds would not be worth what you have, through the 
grace of God, secured to her, as is humbly believed, in the regions 
of the blessed. And when ye, also, stand on the heights of the 
Zion above, and behold her ransomed spirit " filled with all the ful- 
ness of God," and exulting amid the host of heaven, will ye have 



MISS CATHARINE BROWN. 559 

any regrets for the sacrifices it cost you to send the Gospel to her 
people ? 

O let sloth be driven away ; let the grasp of avarice be loosed ; let 
benevolence assume the dominion ; let a spirit of enterprise be kin- 
dled ; let the messengers of salvation be quickly sent to every tribe 
that roams the western wilds. 

Then " the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them 3 
and the desert shall rejoice and blosson as the rose." 

From the Missionary Herald, Vol. XXL— 1825. 



5C0 
TAHNEH, 

A CHEROKEE FEMALE. 

Perhaps nothing places more clearly before the mind of the 
public the character of missionary labors among the heathen, and 
the success which attends them, than biographical sketches of those 
who become hopefully pious, and exemplify their piety in their life, 
and at the hour of death. The change of feeling and conduct, in 
all the relations of life, under sufferings and reproaches, and the new 
hopes which spring up and sustain them in sickness and death, be- 
come manifest. The reader, by knowing the moral character of 
unevangelized nations, may estimate, almost as by a measure, what 
Christianity is adapted to do, and does in many cases do for them. 
The subjoined account of Tahneh, who at her baptism was called 
Naomi, was drawn up by one of the missionaries at Dwight; some 
slight alterations only having been made in the arrangement and : 
shape of a few paragraphs. 

Tahneh was a full-blooded Cherokee, the daughter of a consider- 
able chief and warrior of Wills- Valley, in the old nation. She came 
to this country in the year 18 IS. At that time she was, as nearly as 
we could ascertain, fifty eight years old. Previous to our acquaint- 
ance with her, we know very little of her history, or of any events 
concerning her. By her former neighbors, who are now in this 
country, she was reputed an honest, industrious, persevering, and 
kind woman ; generally respected and ever beloved. The marked 
defect in her character, however, was great irritability and peevish- 
ness. Much of this, doubtless, was attributable 'to ill health. 

In the winter of 1822-3, she removed to the lower settlement on 
Point Remove, where she was placed under the sound of the Gos- 
pel, which, till that time, she had never heard. Her first attendance 
on public worship, was at the request of one of her near neighbors 
and early acquaintances. According to her desire, an abstract was 
given of the life, miracles, sufferings and death of the Savior. This 
was followed by a personal application to herself. With the whole 
she was deeply interested, and expressed a desire that the same gra- 
cious words might be spoken to her whenever opportunity offered. 
From that moment it was manifest that divine truth had reached her 
heart, and was exerting its influence there. She became deeply dis- 
tressed ; and as it appears from our journal of November, 1823, her 
mind was greatly perplexed with some of the doctrines of the Gos- 
pel. In vain did she try to reconcile the sinner's entire helplessness 



memoirs, he. 5GI 

and dependence with his moral freedom and his duty to use the 
means of grace. Her heart was evidently hostile to these truths. 
When told that a condemned heathen would be punished with less 
severity in the world of retribution, than a rejecter of the Gospel, 
she very fervently expressed the wish that she had never heard it ; 
as she was sure she should be among the condemned, and must 
suffer for having abused her privileges, and rejected the offered sal- 
vation. 

She continued for several weeks after this very much distressed, 
and opposing her only deliverer, until she felt herself wholly lost, her 
strength entirely spent, and that she must have a Savior, or perish. 
Then she turned to the Lord Jesus Christ, and found him a precious, 
a willing, a sufficient Savior. We trust that like Mary, she sat down 
at his feet and bathed them with tears of deep and real penitence ; 
that she cast herself upon him as her only hope. In July, 1824, 
while on a visit at Dwight, she expressed a desire to receive Chris- 
tian baptism. We embraced an opportunity to converse with her 
respecting her knowledge and experience of the truths of religion, 
and found her deeply serious, and, we hope, truly humble. Her 
appearance and conversation exhibited good evidence of a renewal 
unto spiritual life, especially when we took into consideration the pre- 
vious circumstances of her life. At a church meeting during the 
same month, she was examined relative to her fitness to be received 
as a candidate for baptism, and the privileges of the church. The 
examination was very particular, and every answer gave entire satis- 
faction to all the members of the church. The graces of meekness, 
penitence, and humble trust in God our Savior, were prominently 
manifested, and gave us reason to hope that she would be enabled 
to exhibit the best of all proofs of a new heart, — a holy life. 

In September following, Tahneh presented herself before the con- 
gregation, and solemly entered into covenant with God and his people. 
At her baptism, she was called Naomi. She afterwards presented 
for baptism an orphan boy, of whom she had the care. 

Not long after this, some grievous charges were brought against 
Naomi by those who opposed Christians and Christianity : but so far 
as could be ascertained, they were utterly groundless; and it appear- 
ed that she had adorned her Christian profession, and borne the cruel 
persecutions with which she had been honored, with the gentleness 
and patient forbearance of primitive Christianity. She was also, at 
that time visited with other severe affliction, in the sickness of her 
only son, whose disease, a pulmonary consumption, seemed rapidly- 
drawing to a fatal termination. The young man was afterwards 
brought by her to the station, as he wished to spend the short rem- 
nant of his life with us, that he might receive Christian instruction 
and consolation while he lived, and Christian burial after his decease, 
In March, 1825, he died, not without giving us ground to hope that 
he was enabled, though with a weak and trembling faith, to trust his 



562 MEMOIRS OF 

soul in the hands of the Redeemer. We rejoiced greatly to see, at 
that time of sorrow, the triumph of Christian principle, and the con- 
solations of Christian hope, in the case of Naomi. Had her son 
been taken from her two years before, she would have been inconso- 
lable, and her heart and her tongue would have risen in rebellion 
against the appointments of heaven. " When," said she, " about 
nine months ago, I was permitted to embrace my only and long ab- 
sent son, I thought I was a poor, feeble, helpless old woman, and 
that my Savior had sent my son to be a stay and a comfort to me, 
as I walked down the decline of life to the grave. I certainly re- 
joiced, and I hope I was thankful. And now when I think how soon 
my son was laid aside by sickness, how he suffered and languished 
away, and now is gone, to come back to his mother no more, I some- 
times feel my heart say, it is hard, it ought not to be so. But then 
I remember my sins, what 1 deserve, how many comforts are yet left 
to me, and that my Savior has done this, my heart says it is well. 
We shall not long be parted. I feel I shall soon follow him, and that 
my Savior will take me to himself forever. 

About the middle of the same month, Naomi became ill herself. 
Her disease appeared to be a violent inflammation of the liver, and 
soon became very alarming. She continued to decline, and on the 
27th became deranged, and on the 31st breathed out her soul into 
the hands of her Savior. She died in the Lord, and as we have 
every reason to believe, went to rest in the blessedness of heaven. 
During the whole of her sickness, until she lost her senses, she bore 
tier pains, which were very severe, without a murmur, saying, " It 
is my Savior's hand ; I am resigned and happy." Even after her 
delirium commenced, many of her expressions indicated that her 
soul was stayed on God. 

Her life on earth was a life of sorrow. Almost every dispensation 
of providence towards her, since we have known her, has seemed to 
say, " This is not your rest." But we doubt not that she is now in 
a world where all tears are wiped from her eyes, and where she has 
found by experience that they who humble themselves shall be ex- 
alted. This was the first breach made in our little church. We 
can add, that the memory of Naomi is affectionately cherished by- 
all the mission, family, and especially by the native brothers and sis- 
ters. Even her enemies are now at peace with her, and often speak 
most respectfully of her, and of the evidence which she gave of true 
piety. One of her daughters is now a member of our church ; and 
it is believed that the example and affectionate instructions, exhorta- 
tions, and prayers of her mother, had an important influence in lead- 
ing her to embrace the hope of the Gospel. 

Such was the life, the character, and the death of this christian- 
ized Cherokee. The change was wrought in her by hearing the 
truths of the Gospel. The case of this woman is not a solitary one. 
Many are now living who show in their conduct the same power of 



TAHNE11. 563 

conscience, the parental solicitude for their children, and the same 
kind social affection. Many have died with the same hope. At the 
death of the members of his church, the missionary con estimate the 
value of the work which he has been the happy instrument of doing. 
Instead of seeing those, whom he has labored to instruct in the way 
of salvation, dying in utter darkness and apathy as to the future, he 
is animated with the hope, that, in the instance before him, the end of 
his labors has been attained : one individual has begun a holy life, has 
gone through the dangerous temptations of this world, has continued 
steadfast to the end : and he now delivers over the soul which he 
lias been watching for, into the hands of the Redeemer, saying to 
himself, as he thinks on the dying scene, there is one soul rescued 
from eternal death — one gone into joy unspeakable and full of glo- 
ry — surely my labors have not been in vain to the Lord. 

From the Missionary Herald, Vol 24.— 182S. 



564 



MRS. JANE CLARK. 



Mrs. Jane Clark, the subject of the following pages, was the 
daughter of Reuben and Ruth Mitchell of Dorchester county, east- 
ern shore of Maryland. She was born December the 14th, 1787.; 
her parents were among the first in that county who received the 
gospel of Christ, as taught in the ministry of the Methodist Episco- 
pal Church, and to whose souls it became the happy power of God 
to salvation : from that time forward, and for many years, their house 
was occupied as a place of public preaching, and as an asylum for 
the messengers of Christ in the hour of trial and danger ; and to 
which many fled to hear the words of life and salvation in the name 
of Christ. Their constant care and attention at all times were, to 
bring up their children in the fear and favor of heaven, and in this 
their efforts were crowned with the most distinguished blessings of 
God ; several of their children have long since died in the triumphs 
of the Christian's faith, while they themselves are left to toil on the 
shore of time. Their other children, four sons and two daughters, 
are members of the Methodist Episcopal Church, and the happy 
partakers of the grace and favor of heaven. 

About the age of fourteen, the subject of these lines, (as she has 
often declared,) became acquainted in some measure with the 
depravity and corruption of her nature, while attending the closing 
scene of one of her most intimate and affectionate female compan- 
ions, whose soul was happy in her God. From this time forward 
she became much interested with the nature and tendency of the 
Christian religion ; while her tears, her groans, her sighs, and her 
prayers, conducted her broken and desponding heart to the cross of 
Christ. In this state she continued for some time, gazing on the 
bleeding, crucified Son of God by faith ; and as she thus gazed, 
light broke into her soul, the darkness which before had surrounded 
her mind gave way. While she, in the transport of joy, and the as- 
surance of love, was enabled to say, " I have found him, 1 have 
found him." From this time forward, even to the closing scene of 
her life, she retained her confidence in her God : and although cast 
upon a rough and boisterous sea of affliction for years, she could 
still adopt the language of the poet and say, 

" Yet will I in my Savior trust. 
And glory that he died for me." 

In the month of April, 1817, she was arrested with a severe attack 
of the inflammatory rheumatism, which for nearly twelve mouths 



MEMOIRS, &£C. 565 

deprived her of the use of all her limbs. After continuing in this 
state for some time, she was attacked with a severe coughing, ac- 
companied with a discharge of blood from the lungs, which con- 
tinued, at times, to the day of her death. So that for the last nine 
years of her life, she never enjoyed one month's health at a time, 
so that life, in some measure with regard to her, had lost all its 
charms, if any it possessed. In the month of October 1826, in re- 
turning from an evening's visit to a friend, she was arrested with a 
chill which was shortly after succeeded by a fever, so as to confine 
her to her bed and room, at which time she stated to me that she 
should not recover the attack, but that in a short time she should re- 
turn to her Father and her God. 

From this time she became more than ever engaged in abstract- 
ing her mind from her family and the cares of the world, and fixing 
it on the interests of the soul, and so continued until the day in 
which God signed her release from earth to heaven, so that when 
the messenger came she was ready to go. As a wife, she was at all 
times affectionate, and cautiously studied the interests of her family. 
As a mother, she was tender and much interested for the welfare of 
her children : as a neighbor she studied the peace and harmony of 
society, and as a Christian, she was warmly attached to the doctrines 
and discipline of the Methodist Episcopal Church, of which she was 
a member from early life. Her piety was of that character, that 
she would often " weep with those that wept, and rejoice with those 
that rejoiced." For several of the last years of her life, her closet 
and her God could witness the sincerity of her tears, shed for the 
cause of her Savior and the salvation of men. At times, all hours of 
the night, as well as those of the day, could find her retiring to her 
closet with her God, until she was compelled to yield to the severity 
of her increasing affliction. She was always much pained, whenever 
I was prevented from attending any of my regular appointments, 
(which was often the case during the last six months of her life,) in 
consequence of her indisposition ; and although my attention was 
wanting, she would endeavor to press me into the work of calling 
sinners to repentance. 

The last six months of her life she was altogether confined to her 
bed and room ; during which time her affliction, of a complicated 
character, was extremely severe : but in the midst of all, her soul 
was kept in peace, although the enemy at times would thrust hard at 
her. So that at one time she called her husband, and said, " My dear, 
it seems as if the Lord deals hard with me, that I should be thus af- 
flicted and cannot die, although 1 wish to go." He endeavored to 
encourage her, by telling her it was the enemy of souls that was striv- 
ing to destroy her comfort, and to look to the Lord for deliverance : 
after pausing for some time, she said to him, " I now know why I 
am thus afflicted, it is for my unfaithfulness." From this time, her 
•:onfidence seemed to increase, and so continued, mixed with a pa- 



566 MEMOIRS OF 

tience and resignation such as few have never been called to wit- 
ness. 

A few weeks before the closing scene arrived, she said to an old 
saint of God, that called to visit her, " My dear sister 0***s, I shall 
get to glory before you. Oh how good the Lord is to me." On the 
Sunday week before she was called to take her departure, she sup- 
posing her end drawing near, called her husband, and said, " I wish 
you to send for sister B****r, I fear she has something against me, 
and I wish to know if she has." At night she appeared much 
worse, but her confidence growing stronger and stronger in her God, 
so that her soul became truly happy. She then turning her head, 
and looking her husband in the face, as he sat by her bed, said, 
" My dear, will you meet me in glory, will you meet me in glory ?" 
After giving her an assurance that he would endeavor so to do, she 
then raised her voice to such an extraordinary degree, as to be 
heard in every part of the house, and said to her weeping friends 
who came to see her, one by one, " Oh sister S*****d, will you 
meet me in glory ?" " Sister H*****y, will you meet me in glo- 
ry ?" and then said to her sister, " Oh Harriet, will you meet me in 
glory ?" After resting awhile, she turned to a young lady who came 
to stay the night with her, and said, " Oh Maria, do get religion, get 
your soul converted, and meet me in glory. Oh how good is the Lord 
to me !" She then said to me, " My dear, you have not sent as yet 
for sister B****r." I then told her I would : at which time two 
of the sisters present went to bring her. She then said I " fear I 
I shall not have strength to speak to her when she comes. About 
10 o'clock she came into the room, when I said, my dear, sister 
B****r, is come, when she raised her feeble and trembling arms, 
and caught her round the neck and said, "Sister B****r, have you 
any thing against me ?" when she, bathed in tears, replied, " No, 
my dear sister Clark, I never had, but I have always loved you." 
" Now," said she, " I can die in peace, but not before. Oh sister 
B****r will you meet me in glory ?" She continued in this happy 
state of mind from that time until within a few days of her death, 
when her mind for a short time appeared to be oppressed by the 
tempter of souls. At this time, brother Guest, the preacher in 
charge of the station, called in to see her ; after which her mind be- 
came composed and happy in God. On my coming into the room, 
she said to me, " Oh how I wish to die and to be with Christ." And 
although tenderly attached to her children, she gave them up into 
die hands of her God, and appeared to have lost sight of them alto- 
gether; knowing that he, into whose hands she had committed them, 
" was able to do abundantly above all that she could ask or think," 
for them. The evening before she died, she said to me, " Unless I 
get better I shall not survive till morning ; do you think 1 shall ?" to 
which I made no reply, owing to the feelings of my heart upon the 
solemn event about to transpire. Her coughing with a severe vom- 



MRS. JANE CLARK, 5G7 

iting, continued from this time, with scarcely any intermission, until 
within a few minutes before she died ; when her yielding spirit could 
say — 

" Thee will I love, my joy, my crown, 
Thee will I love my Lord, my God, 
Thee will I love, beneath thy frown, 
Or smile, thy sceptre or thy rod. 
What though my flesh and heart decay, 
Thee will I love in endless day." 

About half past one o'clock in the morning, she complained of 
the dimness of her sight. A few minutes before she died, she said 
to me, " My dear, how weak I feel, I am almost gone ;" she then 
desired to be raised a little in the bed, which was done : when she 
said, with her soul transported with the prospect of immortality and 
eternal life, " I am going :" and as she uttered these words, and 
while the balm was applied to her lips, her head reclined in the 
arms of sister L******b, and her anxious spirit took its flight to her 
God and Savior, a quarter before two o'clock, on Wednesday morn- 
ing, April the 19th, 1826, in the 39th year of her age. We may 
now adopt the language of the poet and say — 

" This languishing head is at rest, 
Its thinking and aching is o'er; 
This quiet immoveable breast 
Is heaved by affliction no more." 

From the Methodist Magazine, Vol. 10 — 1827, for which it was written by he? 
husband. 



568 



MRS. ELIZABETH BISHOP. 



Mrs. Bishop was a native of Marlborough, Mass., and was born 
in June, 1798. Her family name was Edwards. She was early- 
deprived of both her parents ; her father having died before she was 
two years old, and her mother when she was about fourteen. Left 
an orphan at this early age, she became dependent for support, upon 
her own exertions. At this trying period she found faithful friends 
who counselled and protected her. Of their kindness she was 
deeply sensible, and repaid it with gratitude and warm affection. 
While attending school at Bradford, she became decidedly pious, 
and was ever after very exemplary, in the performance of all reli- 
gious duties. She was deeply interested in the cause of missions ; 
and though she felt her incompetency to engage personally in a work 
of such magnitude as missionary labors among the heathen, yet 
when that seemed to become her duty, she would cheerfully yield 
up herself to the service. Her marriage with Mr. Bishop, and em- 
barkation at New Haven, Conn., for the Sandwich Islands, took 
place in November, 1822, and she arrived at the latter place in 
April 1823. From 1824 till her decease she resided at Kairua. 

Mrs. B. was possessed of a very cheerful and amiable disposition 
and strong powers of mind. She also possessed a great desire for 
intellectual improvement, and carefully availed herself of every op- 
portunity of acquiring knowledge. She was uncommonly persever- 
ing in surmounting difficulties which stood in her path. She seems 
to have been eminently qualified for her labors among the heathen, 
and secured the confidence and affection of all her brethren and 
sisters in the same field. That she was much beloved by the peo- 
ple of the Islands, appears from their assiduous attentions during her 
sickness. She was peculiarly successful in teaching the females and 
gaining their affections. 

Mrs. Bishop was taken ill in August, 1827 ; and immediately be- 
came unable to perform the ordinary labors in her family. She 
seemed at first to suffer from no particular disease, but from a gene- 
ral debility, with occasional slight pains in different parts of her sys- 
tem. As her illness increased, various remedies were resorted to y 
without giving any permanent relief. She removed into the moun- 
tains to enjoy the cooler and purer air ; but the desired effect not 
being produced, she accompanied Mr. Bishop to Honoruru, on the 
island of Oahu, to try the effect of a voyage, and with the hope also 
of finding at that island, some foreign physician, whose advice she 
might avail herself of. For a time she was somewhat benefited by 



memoirs, he. 569 

the voyage ; and Dr. Ford, of the English whale ship, Elizabeth, 
and the surgeon of a Russia discovery ship, which were then in port, 
paid the kindest attention to her case, until they perceived that their 
prescriptions produced little or no good effect. They pronounced 
her disease to be an obstinate dyspepsy. After spending about three 
months at Honoruru, she returned to Kairua. In the mean time 
her debility had greatly increased, and her pains had become exceed- 
ingly severe. The irritation of her nervous system, had become 
such, that the slightest noise would agitate and distress her. The 
voyage to Kairua exhausted her still more ; and after her arrival 
there, she wasted away rapidly. While at Honoruru, besides the 
medical aid of the two physicians mentioned above, she shared in 
the sympathy and care of the mission families at that place ; and 
while at Kairua she received from Mrs. Thurston the kindest atten- 
tion. The native females of both places, and especially the latter, 
where she finished her course, were constantly solicitious to testify 
their esteem and affection. Mr. B. remarks on this point. — 

" The christian females in this place were not backward in their at- 
tentions at this hour of trial. With the tenderest sympathy for the 
sufferings of their beloved teacher, they vied with each other, who 
should be foremost in waiting upon her and administering to her 
comfort. Two in rotation, came each morning, and sat by her bed- 
side through the day, fanned her, bathed her aching head in wa- 
ter, and chafed her cold limbs with their hands : thus affording the 
clearest evidence, that her labors with them had not been in vain. 
After I had become nearly exhausted with watchings and anxiety, 
they continued their visits during the night, alternately administering 
to her wants." 

All hope of Mrs. B.'s recovery died away. Her strength was 
exhausted but her pains were not mitigated. She bore them, how- 
ever, through all her decline, with exemplary patience and resigna- 
tion to the divine will. She continued to grow feeble, until the % 1st 
of February, 1828, when she ceased from her labors and sufferings 
on earth, to enter into that rest which remains for the people of God. 
A communication from her husband contains a statement of her feel- 
ings in view of approaching death, and affords ample evidence of 
her humility, the high standard by which she estimated the Christian 
character, and her confidence in the salvation of the gospel. 

From the first of her sickness, Mrs. Bishop became impressed 
with the belief, that she had not long to live, and often expressed to 
me, the necessity of setting her house in order for the event of death. 
At that time I considered it as the effect of melancholy, brought on 
by anxiety and a declining state of health. While residing at Kua- 
hewa, with the family of Mr. Bingham, she one day walked out to 
a solitary spot, where she supposed no human footsteps would often 
tread, and selected the place as one where she could wish to repose 
after her decease. 

72 



570 MEMOIRS OF 

She was constantly impressed with a sense of her unfaithfulness, 
and the little good she had accomplished during the few years of her 
missionary life, and often prayed that she might be spared in order 
to make amends for past neglect. As I may have occasion fre- 
quently to advert to the low estimation in which she held her services 
in the cause, and the opinion, which she entertained at times, that 
her neglect of the heathen had even been a reproach, I would take 
this occasion to bear my testimony, in accordance with my brethren, 
that her active mind when not occupied in necessary domestic con- 
cerns was ever employed in doing something for the spiritual or tem- 
poral good of the people around her. She was daily in the habit of 
receiving the females into her house, to instruct them in reading, 
writing and domestic arts. And the reason why she could not fully 
appreciate this, during her last illness, was doubtless owing to the 
melancholy state of her mind, springing out of her disorder. She 
was never, when in health, prone to think highly of her religious 
attainments ; but possessing the highest charity for others, she would 
often propose them to herself, as models for imitation. She never 
could feel, when she had done for the heathen what was in her pow- 
er, that she had so done her duty, as to merit the approbation of her 
Master. In health, her spirits were usually buoyant and cheerful ; 
but in regard to her religious duties, she was ever humble, and sel- 
dom appealed to them, as an evidence of her piety. She often used 
to lament that she could find no secluded spot in or about the house 
where she could retire at stated seasons for secret devotion ; and 
gave that as a reason why she had no more religious enjoyment. 
But in her late sickness, the thought that she had not always been 
punctual in the secret duties of the closet, gave her the deepest sor- 
row. Often she would in the most solemn manner charge me, as I 
valued my peace of conscience, and desired to avoid the pangs of 
remorse on a dying bed, to be ever punctual in secret devotions. 
She desired me also to tell it to others, when she was gone, that 
they too might learn from her to avoid what she then suffered. It 
may be proper to remark here, that in the duties of the closet, her 
conscience was ever tender ; and in my opinion, she did always en- 
deavor to be punctual in this respect : but it is probable that the duty 
was sometimes omitted by her, owing to the interruptions to which 
she was subjected every hour in the day, by the intrusion of natives 
into a house, where there is no upper chamber, or inner door, un- 
less a curtain may be so called. 

Mrs. B. was one who ever felt the most lively concern for the 
welfare of her children, situated in this land of strangers, and wit- 
nessing the corrupt manners that surrounded them. It was one 
great burden of her daily prayers, that they might be preserved from 
the influence of pernicious examples. It can well be imagined, 
therefore, what must have been her feelings, in the prospect of leav- 
ing them in their infantile state. Many Meed were the tears which 



MRS. ELIZABETH BISHOP. 571 

she shed, and the prayers which she offered up on their behalf, that 
if possible her life might be spared for their sakes. But God was 
gracious to her in this also, and gave her strength to resign them into 
his hands, and assurance that he would raise up kind friends to pro- 
vide for them, when she was no more. I was both much surprised 
and comforted to find her, who had scarcely been absent from them 
one hour, so willing to commit them to the future care of others 
whom she knew not, assured that God would be their protector and 
better portion. 

It was a source of great grief to her mind, that she could find no 
one of all that visited her in her sickness, who seemed to think with 
her, that she would not recover. The subject of death was one upon 
which she desired to converse often ; but those with whom she spoke 
on the subject, felt that such an event was improbable ; and instead 
of sympathising in her feelings, would usually request her for the 
sake of her health, not to indulge in those reflections, for there was 
no probability that she would die under this complaint. " It is try- 
ing," she would reply, " that none can be found who feel with me 
that death is nigh : but," she would add, " it is all right : I must 
pass the Jordan of death alone : there none can bear me company, 
and why not learn the way alone, since it is the will of my heavenly 
Father." Indeed it was our ignorance of the full extent of her dis- 
order, supposing it was dyspepsy merely, that induced us all to think 
that her sickness though severe, would eventuate in her restoration 
to health. But no assurances from physicians or friends could alter 
her views of this subject: she would lay her hand upon her heart 
and say " here it is ; I feel that death is near and has already be- 
gun his work. The sensations of my own breast tell me that I shall 
not recover." 

She would often express the liveliest gratitude to those who atten- 
ded upon her to administer to her comfort. " May the Lord bless 
you," she would say, " I am not worthy of your kindness, nor can I 
ever repay you; but I pray God to bless you, and reward you. 
Should I recover, I am sure I should be willing to wash the feet of 
you all." At other times she would say, " O you know not how it 
humbles me to see your concern for one so unworthy: if you knew 
but half of my sins, you would not, I am sure you could not, waste 
your precious time upon me so undeserving." But the greatest 
grief of all, and that which caused her deep humiliation of heart, 
was, that I should be called from my appropriate work to attend up- 
on her. " When souls are perishing for lack of knowledge," she 
would say to me, " is it right that you should forsake your work of 
preaching and translating the Word of God, to attend upon me, who 
have merited nothing but displeasure from the hands of my heavenly 
father ? I fear I am answerable for all this." When I assured her it 
was not so; that she was not more answerable for my attendance up- 
on her, than she was accountable for her illness, she replied,, "I fear 



572 MEMOIRS OF 

that it is my own imprudence that has brought me here ; and if so, am 
I not accountable for the consequences ?" 

In all her religious views, even in the darkest hours, I observed 
that her faith in the word and Providence of God, in the fulness 
and all-sufficiency of the Savior, remained unshaken. She felt no 
doubts concerning the truth of what God had revealed : there all was 
clear, and the only difficulty that remained was, the inability to ap- 
propriate the promises to her own case. During the hours of her 
spiritual darkness, it was truly edifying to see with what earnestness 
she sought after the evidences of a true faith, and with what jealousy 
she watched over her heart and conscience, lest she might mistake the 
shadow, and lose sight of the reality. " This," she would say, " is 
not an hour for me to sit down and be satisfied with past attainments, 
and past experience : I must go back again to the first principles of 
faith : I must feel something more than the hope arising from what 
I have done : I must have stronger evidence of acceptance than that 
arising from love to the brethren. My love to them may have been 
only natural affection, common to all towards those with whom they 
associate, and with whom they are in the interchange of kind offices. 
I must feel the spirit of Christ within me, subduing my sinful heart 
and implanting holy affections, and an overcoming faith." 

These seasons of doubts and fears, and expressions of great con- 
cern lest her religion had been hypocritical, used regularly to return 
with the paroxysms of her disorder : but as these passed away, her 
mind would again become tranquil, and hope would again revive. 
Still there was no ecstasy, no assurance that her foundation stood 
strong : it was the trembling hope of one who felt that pardon 
was wholly unmerited, and granted solely for the sake of Christ. 

After her return from Oahu to Kairua, and while sinking fast to- 
wards the grave, her mind was more at rest. The fears and doubts 
that had so distracted her mind, passed away, and cheerful hope 
succeeded in their stead. She would often say, " I feel that Jesus 
is mine ; that he has accepted me, and will take me to himself, when 
I go hence." She spent much time, during the intervals of pain, in 
prayer for herself, her husband and children, her brethren and sisters 
of this mission, and for the whole church of God. It was at this 
time, that the pains, which heretofore had been confined to her body 
and limbs, attacked her head, and at times almost deprived her of 
reason. She had often expressed her thankfulness, that in all the 
pain she endured, her head had been quite free ; but now the trial 
of her patience was come. Agonies to which she had before been a 
stranger, racked her brain. We bathed her head in cold water 
night and day, and some one constantly held it with both hands, " to 
keep it," as she expressed it " from falling to pieces." She had 
often expressed to me a desire to remove into the country, where 
she -thought the cold air and bathing her temples in the mountain 
water would give her some relief. We felt the difficulty of making 



MRS. ELIZABETH BISHOP. 573 

the attempt : for at this time she was exceedingly reduced, and 
could not even turn herself in bed. She was accustomed to be laid 
upon a litter every morning and evening, and carried out by two men 
to take an airing. One morning, during her usual airing, she ordered 
her bearers to ascend with her toward the mountain. They did so, 
bore her nearly half the way thither, and then returned. On her 
arrival she expressed herself refreshed by the excursion. The next 
morning, therefore, we undertook to remove her on her litter ; and 
much to our satisfaction, she endured the excursion with little fa- 
tigue. She remained in the country six days, but she suffered al- 
most incredibly from the effect of the cold nights upon her emaciated 
frame ; so that the object after which we sought, was defeated. 

It was while in the country, separated from the society of every 
brother and sister, and in the near prospect of eternity, that she 
seemed to gird on anew her armor for the coming foe. I had until 
this time indulged hopes, that by the blessing of God, she might 
eventually recover, but these hopes had for sometime been dimin- 
ishing, and now they were quite gone. The pallid, sunken cheek, 
the hollow eye, the diminished pulse, and wandering reason, evinced 
clearly to my mind, that death was near. When I informed her of 
my apprehensions, she seemed relieved in her mind, and replied, "It 
is well : death has no terrors : it is what I have long looked and wait- 
ed for, as a release from the pains that assail my frame. I have 
long given up all thoughts of recovery, and death only appears de- 
sirable. And you, my dear husband," she added, " the Lord will 
comfort and bless you under your bereavement, and give you many 
souls for your hire. Remember the promise, " they that go forth 
weeping, bearing precious seed, shall return again rejoicing, bringing 
their sheaves with them." Take care to continue faithful, steadfast, 
and abounding in the work of the Lord, and this promise is yours." 
A little after, having lain some time with her eyes closed, she opened 
them and said to me, " I have been praying for an overcoming faith, 
that 1 may come off a conqueror in the hour of conflict. Pray for 
me, O pray for me, that the everlasting arms may be my support, 
when heart and flesh shall fail." She then desired me to sing to 
her the words of the dying Christian, " Vital spark of heavenly 
flame," &c. 

I had scarcely commenced, when she interrupted me by saying 
that her nerves could not bear singing, and requested me only to re- 
peat it. After I had finished, and asked her how she felt, I found 
that her reason was again wandering, and I said no more. 

At another time, during an interval of pain, she spoke to me of 
her children now about to be left orphans. She said she had resign- 
ed them into the hands of God ; charged me to be kind to them, 
and to leave no suitable means untried to procure for them a good 
home in America. " I, also," she added, " was once an orphan, 
and know too well the ills of orphanage not to be solicitous for my 



574 memoirs, he. 

dear children." It was about this time, as near as I remember, that 
I asked her whether she had any message to leave in my charge to 
her friends, either here, or in America. " Yes," she replied, " tell 
my brethren and sisters of the mission, that I love them unto the 
end ; that I have nothing to bestow in return for their kindness to 
me, but my thanks and my prayers for their prosperity in their labor 
of love. Tell my dear American friends, that they will neither see, 
nor hear from me again in this life, but that 1 hope hereafter to meet 
them again, to part no more forever. And tell my dear pupils at 
Kairua, that after a few days, they will see me no more ; but that 
it was my hope to live long, and have met with them for many days 
to come. Tell them to forgive whatever they have seen in me, that 
they thought amiss : to listen to the words of their teachers, and 
above all, to seek earnestly after the word of life and the way of sal- 
vation : to hold fast to the right way unto the end. Charge them to 
remember my dying words that we may all meet again in heaven." 

About one week before her death, when revived a little, after a 
season of great exhaustion and fatigue, she called for her children. 
When they were brought, she laid her emaciated hands upon the head 
of each and said, " The Lord shield this defenceless head under- 
neath the shadow of his wings." She then kissed them and wept. 

Each day now presented some new symptom of approaching dis- 
solution. Three days before her departure, she became entirely 
bereft of her reason, and ceased to know her friends and attendants. 
About the middle of the night when the afflictive event took place, I 
seated myself by her. The pulse by this time was scarcely per- 
ceptible. I held her cold hand in mine for some time, when I heard 
her say, in a broken, inarticulate voice, " Let me depart in peace." 
Thinking she might wish me to leave her a little to quietude, I re- 
moved my chair to the door, and thought upon the glories that would 
open on her soul, when released from its crumbling tenement. In a 
little time, I inquired of the female attendants bow she appeared ; 
and they motioned to me that she was asleep. I immediately caught 
a lamp and hastened to her ; but she was gone. Without a struggle 
or a groan, she gently breathed forth her spirit into the arms of her 
Savior. 

The funeral services were attended on the Saturday morning fol- 
lowing, when a numerous procession of females all dressed in 
mourning followed her to the grave. She rests in peace, in the 
church-yard, there to await the joyful summons of the last trumpet, 
to rise and ascend to the bosom of the Savior, whom she served and 
owned on earth. 

From the Missionary Herald, Vol. 25—1829. 



575 



MRS. ANN HASSELTINE JUDSON* 



Mrs. Jddson was the daughter of Mr. John and Mrs. Rebecca 
Hasseltine, and was born December 22, 1789, at Bradford, Massa- 
chusetts. 

In her earliest years, she was distinguished by activity of mind, 
extreme gayety, a strong relish for social amusements, and unusually 
ardent feelings. She possessed that spirit of enterprise, that fertility 
in devising plans for the attainment of her wishes, and that indefati- 
gable perseverance in the pursuit of her purposes, of which her sub- 
sequent life furnished so many examples, and created so frequent 
occasions. Her restless spirit, while a child, was often restrained by 
her mother ; and the salutary prohibitions which this excellent parent 
was sometimes forced to impose, occasioned so much grief, that Mrs. 
Hasseltine once said to her, " I hope, my daughter, you will one day 
be satisfied with rambling." 

An eager thirst for knowledge is commonly the attendant, and 
often the parent of a restless, enterprising disposition. It was so in 
the case of Mrs. Judson. She loved learning, and a book could 
allure her from her favorite walks, and from the gayest social circle. 
The desire for knowledge is often found in connexion with moderate 
intellectual faculties ; and in such cases, with favorable opportunities, 
the individual may make a respectable proficiency in learning. But 
this desire is almost invariably an attribute of eminent mental powers t 
and the person thus happily endowed, needs nothing but industry 
and adequate means, to ensure the attainment of the highest degree 
of literary excellence. 

Mrs. Judson's mind was of a superior order. It was distinguished 
by strength, activity, and clearness. She has, indeed, left no memo- 
rials, which can be produced, as fair specimens of her talents and 
literary acquirements. She wrote much, but her writings have per- 
ished, except letters and accounts of missionary proceedings, written 
without any design to exhibit her abilities, or display her learning. 
But no one can review her life, and read what she has written and 
published, without feeling that her mind possessed unusual vigor and 
cultivation. 

She was educated at the Academy in Bradford, a seminary which 
has become hallowed by her memory, and by that of Mrs. Newell, 
the proto-martyr of the American Missions. Here she pursued her 
studies with much success. Her perceptions were rapid, her mem- 
ory retentive, and her perseverance indefatigable. Here she laid 
the foundations of her knowledge, and here her intellect was stimu- 



576 MEMOIRS OF 

lated, disciplined and directed. Her preceptors and associates ever 
regarded her with respect and esteem : and considered her ardent 
temperament, her decision and perseverance, and her strength of 
mind, as ominous of some uncommon destiny. 

At this seminary, hallowed as the place where others of the emi- 
nent of her sex have caught the first rays of light which they after- 
wards scattered so far, she too first sought and found a Savior. In 
the revival at Bradford in 1806, already noticed in the life of Mrs. 
Newell, she was roused to a sense of her danger, and after many 
days of deep distress under a strong conviction of sin, she finally ob- 
tained a good hope, through grace, of that salvation which is by Jesus 
Christ alone. In the account of her religious experience, recorded 
in her private journals, she thus expresses her feelings after her 
conversion. 

" I now began to hope, that I had passed from death unto life. 
When I examined myself, I was constrained to own, that I had feel- 
ings and dispositions, to which I was formerly an utter stranger. I 
had sweet communion with the blessed God, from day to day ; my 
heart was drawn out in love to Christians of whatever denomination ; 
the sacred Scriptures were sweet to my taste ; and such was my thirst 
for religious knowledge, that I frequently spent a great part of the 
night in reading religious books. 

" Sin, in myself and others, appeared as that abominable thing, 
which a holy God hates — and I earnestly strove to avoid sinning, not 
merely because I was afraid of hell, but because I feared to displease 
God, and grieve his Holy Spirit. I attended my studies in school* 
with far different feelings and different motives, from what I had ever 
done before. I felt my obligation to improve all I had to the glory 
of God ; and since he in his providence had favored me with advan- 
tages for improving my mind, I felt that I should be like the slothful 
servant, if I neglected them. I therefore diligently employed all 
my hours in school, in acquiring useful knowledge, and spent my 
evenings, and part of the night in spiritual enjoyments. 

" While thus recounting the mercies of God to my soul, I am par- 
ticularly affected by two considerations ; the richness of that grace, 
which called and stopped me in my dangerous course, and the un- 
grateful returns I make for so distinguished a blessing. I am prone 
to forget the voice which called me out of darkness into light, and 
the hand which drew me from the horrible pit and miry clay. When 
I first discerned my Deliverer, my grateful heart offered him the 
services of a whole life, and resolved to acknowledge no other mas- 
ter. But such is the force of my native depravity, that I find my- 
self prone to forsake him, grieve away his influence from my heart, 
and walk in the dark and dreary path of the backslider. I despair 
of making great attainments in the divine life, and look forward to 
death only, to free me from my sins and corruptions. Till that bless- 
ed period, that hour of my emancipation, I am resolved, through the 



MRS. ANN HASSELTINE JUDSON, 577 

grace and strength of my Redeemer, to maintain a constant warfare 
with my inbred sins, and endeavor to perform the duties incumbent 
on me, in whatever situation I may be placed. 

' Safely guide my wandering feet, 
Travelling in this vale of tears ; 
Dearest Savior, to thy seat 
Lead, and dissipate my fears.' " 

The change in her feelings and views, which she has thus deseri- 
bed, was a thorough and permanent one. She immediately entered 
on the duties, and sought for the pleasures, of religion, with all the 
ardor of her natural character. 

Mrs. Judson, early in • her religious life, showed her desire to be 
useful to her fellow men. Her active mind was not satisfied without 
some effort to benefit those around her. She accordingly engaged, 
soon after this period, in the occupation of instructing a school, im- 
pelled mainly by the desire to be useful. There are few situations, 
which furnish better opportunities of imparting permanent benefit, 
than that of the instructor of a school. In New England, this office 
is regarded with a good degree of the honorable estimation to which 
it is entitled ; and it is to be wished, that a larger number of educated 
young ladies would employ themselves in a service so beneficial to 
their own minds, and so vitally important to the rising generation. 

The following extract from Mrs. Judson's journal, dated May 12, 
1807, shows the conscientious principles which actuated her; and 
proves that her mind was thus early swayed by the resolution to live 
not unto herself, but to Him who died for her, and rose again. Her 
zeal for the spiritual welfare of others, and her decision of character, 
are here seen, in a very striking light. 

" Have taken charge of a few scholars. Ever since I have had a 
comfortable hope in Christ, I have desired to devote myself to him, 
in such a way, as to be useiul to my fellow creatures. As Provi- 
dence has placed me in a situation of life, where I have an opportu- 
nity of getting as good an education as I desire, I feel it would be 
highly criminal in me not to improve it. I feel, also, that it would 
be equally criminal to desire to be well educated and accomplished, 
from selfish motives, with a view merely to gratify my taste and rel- 
ish for improvement, or my pride in being qualified to shine. I 
therefore resolved last winter, to attend the Academy, from no other 
motive, than to improve the talents bestowed by God, so as to be 
more extensively devoted to his glory, and the benefit of my fellow 
creatures. On being lately requested to take a small school, for a 
few months, I felt very unqualified to have the charge of little im- 
mortal souls ; but the hope of doing them good, by endeavoring to 
impress their young and tender minds with divine truth, and the ob- 
ligation I feel, to try to be useful, have induced me to comply. I was 
enabled to open the school with prayer. Though the cross was very 
great, T felt constrained, by a sense of duty, to take it up. The lit- 

73 



578 MEMOIRS OF 

tie creatures seemed astonished at such a beginning. Probably- 
some of them had never heard a prayer before. O may I have 
grace to be faithful in instructing these little immortals, in such a 
way as shall be pleasing to my heavenly Father." 

She was engaged, at intervals, for several years, in teaching schools 
in different towns. She was always diligent and faithful in her en- 
deavors to enlighten the minds and to form the manners of her pupils ; 
but she regarded the fear of the Lord as the beginning of wisdom; 
and she strove to guide her dear pupils to the Savior. She felt her- 
self to be intrusted, in some measure, with the charge of their souls ; 
and she watched for them as one that must give an account. 

In June, 1810, Miss Hasseltine became acquainted with Mr. 
Adoniram Judson, who was then a candidate for a mission to the 
heathen. The result of this acquaintance in a short time, was an 
offer of marriage on his part, including of course a proposition to 
her, to accompany him on his missionary enterprise. 

She was thus placed in a situation of peculiar difficulty and deli- 
cacy. The influence which her affections ought to have, in decid- 
ing a question of this kind, it would not, in ordinary cases, have been 
difficult to determine. But in this case, her embarrassment was in- 
creased, by the conflict which might arise between affection and 
duty. A person so conscientious as she was, would wish to form a 
decision on the important question of her duty, respecting missionary 
labors, uninfluenced by any personal considerations. Hesitation to 
assume an office so responsible, and so arduous, would spring up in 
any mind ; but Miss Hasseltine was required to decide on the point, 
in connection with another, itself of the utmost consequence to her 
individual happiness. It was impossible to divest herself of her per- 
sonal feelings ; and she might have some painful suspicions, lest her 
affections might bias her decision to become a Missionary ; while 
female delicacy and honor would forbid her to bestow her hand, 
merely as a preliminary and necessary arrangement. 

There was another circumstance which greatly increased the diffi- 
culty of a decision. No female had ever left America as a Mis- 
sionary to the heathen. The general opinion was decidedly opposed 
to the measure. It was deemed wild and romantic in the extreme, 
and altogether inconsistent with prudence and delicacy. Miss H. 
had no example to guide and allure her. She met with no encour- 
agement from a greater part of those persons, to whom she applied 
for counsel. Some expressed strong disapprobation of the project. 
Others would give no opinion. Two or three individuals, whom it 
might not be proper to name, were steady, affectionate advisers, and 
encouraged her to go. With these exceptions, she was forced to 
decide from her own convictions of duty, and her own sense of fitness 
and expediency.* 



* The remark of one lady respecting Mrs. J. would express the feelings of many 
others, " I hear," said she, " that Miss H. is going to India, Why does she go ?** 



MRS. ANN HASSELT1NE JUDSON. 579 

It was well for the cause of Missions, that God assigned to Miss 
Hasseltine the honorable, yet difficult office of leading the way in this 
great enterprise. Her adventurous spirit and decision of character 
eminently fitted her to resolve, where others would hesitate, and to 
advance, where others might retreat. She did decide to go, and 
her determination, without doubt, has had some effect on the minds 
q[ other females, who have since followed her example. 

The resolution of Mr. and Mrs. Judson, to devote themselves to 
the service of their Savior as Missionaries, was not formed in the ar- 
dor of youthful enthusiasm. It was not the impulse of an adven- 
turous spirit, panting for scenes of difficulty and danger. They had 
cherished no romantic views of the missionary enterprise. They had 
calmly estimated its hazards and its toils. They foresaw what it 
would cost them, and the issue to which it would probably lead them 
both. They knew well what they must do and suffer ; and they 
yielded themselves as willing sacrifices, for the sake of the far distant 
heathen. 

They were married on the fifth of February, 1812, and on the 
next day he was ordained to the work of evangelizing the heathen, 
with his brethren in the mission. Soon after, Mr. and Mrs. Judson 
sailed in the same vessel with Mr. and Mrs. Newell, to Calcutta. 
On their arrival at Calcutta, the difficulties already alluded to in the 
life of Mrs. Newell, prevented a permanent missionary establish- 
ment in that part of India. After the departure of Mr. and Mrs. 
Newell for the Isle of France, Mr. and Mrs. Judson, resided in Cal- 
cutta two months, during which time, from a serious consideration of 
the subject, they were led to renounce some of their former religious 
tenets and to adopt the opinions of the Baptists. In consequence of 
this change, their connection with the American Board of Commis- 
sioners for Foreign Missions, was necessarily dissolved, and they, 
with Mr. Rice, another missionary, who had altered his sentiments, 
were compelled to look to some other quarter for support. Mr. 
Rice returned to the United States, and by his efforts, and earnest 
appeals, a large portion of the Baptist denomination were roused to 
action in the cause of Missions, so that a Baptist General Convention 
was soon organized, and a Board of Missions appointed, under whose 
patronage Messrs. Rice and Judson were called to labor, with liberty 
to choose the field. Mr. and Mrs. Judson had removed to the Isle 
of France with Mr. Rice, before his departure to the United States, 
and there they remained till May, 1813, when they sailed for Mad- 
ras, hoping there to find a passage to the island of Penang, on the 
coast of Malacca, where they intended to labor among the heathen 
natives. On their arrival at Madras however, they were unable to 



«« Why, she thinks it her duty; would not you go, if you thought it your duty !" 
" But," replied the good lady, with emphasis, " I would not think it my duty" 
Many questions of duty, it may be suspected, are decided in this summary manner. 



580 MEMOIRS, &C. 

obtain a passage to Penang, and at length sailed to Rangoon in 
Burmah, which thenceforth, became the scene of their missionary 
labors. Here unfriended and alone, they commenced their no- 
ble work in July, 1813; and as their prospects opened before 
them, they felt a momentary gloom and dejection at the darkness of 
the future. But they were not left despairing. Their helper God, 
in whom they had trusted, was present still, upholding them by the 
consolations of his grace in that dark hour of trial, and by the sure 
promise of his aid through all their labors yet to come. There the 
missionaries labored through dangers and trials for six years, before 
their hearts were gladdened by the conversion of a single Burman. 
And at length when their labors were rewarded by success, the con- 
verts were few and feeble ; but still they neither despaired nor de- 
sisted while life or strength lasted. 

The health of Mrs. Judson was considerably enfeebled by the cli- 
mate of Burmah and her labors, so that it was found necessary for her 
in the latter part of the year ] 821, to revisit her native country. Be- 
fore coming to the United States, she passed some time in England, 
where she was received with the kindest attention by many of the 
friends of Missions. After a stay of some months she went over to 
America, where she spent more than half a year, surrounded by 
Christian friends. Her health being in a great measure restored by 
repose in her natural climate, in the summer of 1823, she sailed for 
India, and in December rejoined her husband at Rangoon. 

During the war between the Burmans and the British, which was 
commenced in 1824, and carried on for two years, the situation of 
the missionaries was dangerous in the extreme, and many times their 
lives were threatened. The sufferings to which the cruelty of the 
heathen subjected them, were almost beyond human endurance, and 
the shocks which Mrs. Judson received, so weakened her constitu- 
tion, from sickness and anguish of body and mind, that she did not 
long survive the termination of the war. On the 24th of October, 
1826, while her husband was at Rangoon, she died at the British 
colony of Amherst, where she now rests in a missionary's grave, 
from a missionary's labors. 

This brief sketch of the life of Mrs. Judson is abstracted from her memoirs by 
the Rev. J. D. Knowles, a book so well known, and extensively circulated, that a 
notice of her life here was unnecessary, except that the list of eminently pious 
American women would be incomplete without her. 



581 



MRS. ESTHER BUTLER. 



Mrs. Butler was a native of Connecticut, and was born Sept. 
1798. She was married to Doct. Elizur Butler in Oct. 1820, and 
with him proceeded immediately to the Cherokee nation, to join the 
mission there* under the direction of the Board. They commenced 
their labors first at Brainerd, and afterwards resided for a season at 
Creekpath. In the spring of 1826, they took the charge of the 
station at Haweis, where the last three years and a half of Mrs. 
Butler's life were spent. Her constitution seemed to have been se- 
riously impaired by a severe cold taken on her way to her field of 
labor, and she never after enjoyed good heath ; though she was gen- 
erally able to manage the concerns of her family and teach a small 
school. In April last, Doct. Butler having been called away more 
than thirty miles to attend Mr. David Brown, who had been attacked 
with bleeding of the lungs, was unexpectly summoned to return to 
the case of his own wife, who had experienced a similar attack. 
Spasms of the stomach followed, and became extremely severe and 
obstinate. By this attack she was reduced to a very feeble state 
although hope was long indulged that it would not prove fatal. The 
disease, however, was making progress, and the the attacks becom- 
ming more severe. 

The following passages are from a letter of Doct. Butler. 

" On the morning of the 21st of Oct. 1 told her I hardly expected 
she would live through the day. But she obtained considerable re- 
lief from medicine, and was more comfortable until evening, when 
her symptoms became quite alarming. That evening a kind Provi- 
dence very unexpectedly brought Messrs. Worcester and Proctor to 
comfort and assist us. About eleven o'clock P. M. sunken eyes, a 
cadaverous countenence, with unfavorable symptoms, indicated her 
speedy departure. The family were called together. She gave 
each individual, whilst grasping her hands, a short address and a fare- 
well. She then seemed ready to fall asleep in Jesus. Her speech 
was reduced to a whisper and her eyes became dim. Her pulse 
died away and revived repeatedly. She ceased to breathe ; then 
gasped and revived, and about light said, " Is it possible that I have 
come back again to this world to fill up my cup? I thought I had 
gone to heaven. But if it is the Lord's will-, J will acquiesce." 

The following remarks from Mr. Worcester, who, as just stated, 
witnessed the solemn and interesting scene, will afford a further ex- 
hibition, of the feelings of Mrs. Butler in the near view of death. 

"During the night, she was supposed by herself and by all present, 
; o have arrived at her last struggle. At first, for a short time, she 



582 MEMOIRS OF 

appeared somewhat solicitious respecting her final state. "O," said 
she " to appear before the bar of God, after a life so unfaithful in 
his service !" In a few minutes after, however, she said, " Yes, I 
know that my Redeemer liveth, though Satan did try to persuade 
me that there was no mercy for me." The remainder of that night 
was passed in excruciating pain of body, but with peace of mind. 
The family and others who were in the house were called to her bed- 
side, and she bade each one an affectionate farewell ; recommending 
them all to the mercy of God in Christ, and expressing the hope 
of meeting them once again in heaven ; and repeating to her children 
and to some Cherokee girls who had been under her instruction, the 
exhortations which she had formerly given them, to believe in the 
Savior of sinners. During the night she repeatedly said, " I long to 
depart and be with my blessed Savior." If any thing wrong appear- 
ed in the state of her mind, I should think it was a small degree of 
impatience to be gone. Respecting her missionary labors she said, 
" It appears to me that I have done little, very little for the good of 
this people : but I leave it as my dying testimony, that I have never re- 
pented of coming and doing what little I have." 

The night was one of much interest. Mrs. B. said many things 
which it would be gratifying and worth while to relate ; but I do not 
recollect them with sufficient accuracy. In the morning her distress 
was relieved and the prospect of immediate dissolution removed. 
I then left her and afterwards was with her only a part of the nights 
of Oct. 28 — 29 when she was still in a very tranquil state of mind, 
but indulging the hope of recovery." 

Her husband has given a brief sketch of the state of her mind 
during the interval which elapsed between the time of her obtaining 
relief from the almost fatal attack just noticed, and the time when her 
spirit was released from the body. 

" She seemed so near heaven, that she doubted the propriety of 
using any more means for her recovery. She still continued and 
we had her happy society thirty days longer. She looked on me 
and her children as no longer hers. She had parted with us and 
given us into the hands of her covenant God. She viewed us in a 
different light from what she ever had before done. She still loved 
us, and rejoiced and mourned widi us ; but we were in the world, and 
she was on the threshold of heaven. During the last thirty days of 
her life, her mind was in a very happy frame. She gave various di- 
rections respecting her children and spoke of her burial, and her de- 
parture for heaven, with the utmost composure. She said she never 
regretted engaging in the mission and comming to labor for the good 
of the Cherokees : she only regretted she had been no more faith- 
ful, and done the Cherokees no more good." 

The remaining statements respecting the closing period of Mrs. 
Butler's life are from Mr, Chamberlin, who was much with her. 



MRS. ESTHER BUTLER. 583 

" At the time, Mr. Worcester left Haweis, and for several days af- 
terwards, Mrs. Butler was anxious to die. She did not wish her 
Christian friends to pray for her continuance in this world, and she 
was doubtful whether it was right for her to take medicine. Her 
symptoms, however, became much more favorable, and some faint 
hopes were entertained of her recovery. As she found herself re- 
viving, she turned her eyes again to the world, and became much 
too anxious to live. This anxiety was greatly increased, if not caus- 
ed by a letter which was received from her sister, informing her that 
she was about to set out for this country. She considered this anxi- 
ety as a temptation of the adversary, and prayed against it, and de- 
sired her Christian friends to pray that this temptation might be re- 
moved. After a few days, this anxiety was succeeded by remarka- 
ple resignation to the will of God, which continued to the last. Of 
her sister she said, " I have been very anxious to see her, but can 
now freely give her up : I have not one anxious thought respecting 
her. The Lord knows best about all these things : as for me, I am 
willing to lie on this bed of sickness, suffer pain, die, or get well, just 
as he pleases." Upon her husband and children she cast an affec- 
tionate look and said, " You are no longer mine : I feel that I have 
given you up." To her husband when speaking of the children, she 
said, " I leave you with a great charge ; but the Lord will be with 
you." To us who knew her strong attachment to her family, the 
triumph of grace, which enabled her to give them up so unreserved- 
ly, appeared very remarkable, and indeed it was a source of aston- 
ishment to herself. It was what she had never expected ; nor could 
she attribute it to any thing short of rich and sovereign grace. 

She expressed great confidence in the Savior, and joyfully resign- 
ed herself into his hands. When, conversing with Mrs. E. one of 
the female members of the mission, on the preciousness of the Chris- 
tian's hope, especially in such a time as this, Mrs. E. repeated the 
words of the poet ; 

" These lively hopes we owe 
To Jesus' dying love." 

With a remarkable glow of animation on her countenance she re- 
plied " O yes, yes, dear sister, say on." She expressed much feel- 
ing for the poor Cherokees in their present affliction; but said, "they 
are in the hands of God, and he will order all things right." Speak- 
ing of her missionary brethren and sisters, she said, "I love them all 
truly, and trust I shall meet them in heaven." She expressed warm 
affection and gratitude towards those who were with her in her sick- 
ness. She said, " surely there never was a poor soul that had so 
much reason to be grateful for kind friends as I have." 

When she was dying she was asked if she could then say with the 
Psalmist, " though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 
I will fear no evil, for thou art with me : thy rod and thy staff they 



584 MEMOIRS, &C. 

comfort me." With great animation she replied, " Yes altogether.' ? 
When she was again asked if her faith still held out, she said, " yes, I 
view my Savior on the cross and am supported." After her speech 
was gone she whispered " come Lord Jesus, come quickly, come, 
come." And soon fell asleep. 

By her death her husband has lost a prudent and affectionate wife. 
Her children have also lost much. As a mother she was eminently- 
qualified to bring them up in a respectable and religious manner. 
Her missionary associates have lost an active and judicious assistant, 
and the Cherokees a warm hearted and valuable friend. It is true 
our departed sister never enjoyed good health while on mission 
ground, yet she had a remarkable faculty of accomplishing much with 
little strength." 

The closing scene and the circumstances of the funeral are thus 
described by Dr. B. 

" On the morning of Nov. 21st she fell asleep in the arms of the 
Savior. On the next day her funeral was attended by a very solemn 
and orderly, but weeping concourse. The funeral sermon was 
preached by Mr. Chamberlin, from Rev. xiv. 13. "Blessed are the 
dead which die in the Lord from henceforth." Great kindness and 
sympathy were manifested by the members of the mission families 
from other stations, during her sickness and at the time of the death 
of Mrs. B. Many of them spent much time at Haweis. I feel this 
to be a heavy and sore affliction, but God has only taken away a bles- 
sing which was lent. Though the loss is great to me, she has gained 
everlasting bliss." 

From the Missionary Herald, Vol. 26—1830, 



»S5 



ELIZA, 

AN INDIAN FEMALE. 



The Indian name of Eliza was O-dah-be-tuh-ghe-zhe-go-quai, 
signifying in English the Mid-way-sky woman, or the place of the 
sun at noon. She was born near the Annee, about 300 miles up the 
south shore of Lake Superior ; and is by blood of the Ojibeway 
tribe. She did not know her age, but was probably born not far 
from the year 1783. 

Being of influential connections, (her uncle a principal chief,) she 
was selected to become an interpreter of dreams. This took place 
when she was probably about 16 or 17 years old. Her merits for 
this rank or honor must, according to their superstition, be decided 
by her living ten days in a separate lodge, without any other nour- 
ishment than a little water each night. She faithfully observed the 
prescribed abstinence, although it nearly cost her her life. Her 
bodily strength was almost exhausted ; and on being brought out of 
the lodge, and probably being too plentifully fed, she fell sick and 
did not recover for several moons. And yet, of her own accord, 
soon after she got well she fasted nine days more. From this time 
she was considered an extraordinary being. The clan would not 
permit her to work, but provided with a wigwam of distinction, she 
constantly received from them the best of their every thing, both 
food and clothing. 

She was also furnished with a large otter skin, or medicine sack, 
stored with every necessary article, either for magical cure of the 
sick, or for interpreting dreams. This sack, which she carefully 
preserved, was her badge of honor ; and in all their medicine dances 
she was greatest among the great. One proof of which was taking 
the lead in drinking whiskey. In this way she became so exces- 
sively intemperate, that in one of these scenes she lost her sack. 
This was during the last war, at the commencement of which she 
came from Lake Superior and resided on the main land west of 
Mackinaw. Another sack was provided her ; this she kept only 
about two years. Near this lime she lost one of her children, which, 
together with the loss of her second sack and the neglect of the In- 
dians, so dispirited her that she abandoned herself to every vice. 
About nine years ago she lost another child, the third of four. Then 
for awhile she listened to advice and stopped drinking. But it was 
not long before she was allured away into the woods by an Indian 
man and woman, where whiskey had been previously carried, and 

74 



586 MEMOIRS OF 

there those two persuaded her to drink with them. In this drunken 
frolic, through jealousy, as she supposes, but without any just provo- 
cation, the other woman fell upon her and cut off her nose. This 
was the greatest disgrace, in her estimation, that she could possibly 
suffer. And for a long time her friends had to watch her to prevent 
her from destroying her life. Once she tried to hang herself. At 
another time, returning from Mackinaw, where she with other Indians 
had been for whiskey, she threw herself into the lake, but the In- 
dian in the stern caught her by the hair and drew her again into the 
canoe. After this she began to think that the unknown Indian, who 
as she supposed, had the care of her life, was unwilling that she 
should kill herself, and she gave up all further attempts to effect it. 
Having but one child left, she now stayed sometimes on the island 
of Mackinaw, and sometimes on the main land, with no fixed object 
but to get whiskey by every possible means. 

Five years ago this fall, was the first knowledge I had of her. 
Soon after our family was open to receive children, I one day met 
her boy, and on ascertaining who he was, I went with an interpreter 
to the lodge of the mother. A wretchedly destitute and miserable 
scene we witnessed. At that time no persuasion could induce her 
to let me have her son. But going the second time, and the boy 
himself being willing, she at length reluctantly gave her consent. 
However, in a few days he ran away, and though I obtained him 
again, yet through the winter the mother w r atched for opportunities 
to get him. The following spring, more out of pity than for our 
convenience, I employed her, first in the kitchen, and afterward at 
the sugar camp, on Bois Bleau, on condition that she would drink 
no whiskey and conduct herself properly. By much counsel and 
care she did so much better than my fears, that I finally told her, 
that provided she would be steady and do such work as she was 
able, she might have a home with us. From that time, I believe, 
she never had but three or four seasons of intoxication. 

It is now about three years since her serious attention to religion 
commenced, the amount of which for some length of time was very 
fluctuating. While under the sound of instruction she would be 
more or less affected, sometimes to tears. For several years, dur- 
ing the hours of Sabbath school we have had a separate school for 
Indian women and others, mostly under the care of Mrs. F., for the 
purpose of reading and explaining the Scriptures, tracts, &c. It 
was at these meetings that E. was often affected ; though after- 
wards, as she says, she would throw the subject off and become in 
a measure indifferent. Again, perhaps, impressed with the idea that 
there could be no mercy for such a creature as she was, and the 
thought of her religious state making her unhappy, she would avoid 
being present at these meetings. Under this same impression she could 
not think it right for her to come with us to family worship, or to the 
evening meetings of the females. Yet she says she often felt so 



ELIZA, AN INDIAN FEMALE. 587 

strong a desire to hear the sound of prayer and singing, that she has 
gone to the door and remained there as long as she thought she 
could, without being discovered — sometimes till nearly frozen. Most 
of that winter passed with such uneasiness of mind, that, when not 
daring to look to God herself for mercy, because she was such a sin- 
ner, she would feel it a kind of relief to overhear the worship of 
others, as if God might possibly hear their prayers, though she was 
unworthy to be present. 

During the spring, while at the sugar camp, she says she was great- 
ly distressed during the whole time. When gathering sap, she often 
had feelings like these — Here I am going the same round daily from 
tree to tree, and can find no relief — I must always carry this wicked 
heart, and when I die, be miserable forever. — The pious Indian wo- 
man who had charge of the sugar camp, used to talk some with her ; 
and after seasons of prayer, would perhaps ask her if she did not 
feel the importance of joining in heart with her. She said she did. 
And though there was to her mind no prospect of ever being better, 
yet she would, as she says, forget herself, and feel strong desires for 
mercy. After her return, she thought, as she says, that every one 
must look upon her condition as a hopeless one ; and as before, she 
often stayed away from meetings because she thought it unfit for her 
to be there. Most of the following summer she spent at the farm, 
where at times she seemed to awake to an affecting view of her 
dreadful state, and with such feelings that she would go off from the 
house and pray and weep much alone : but for the most part she in- 
dulged in despair without relief. 

The next fall we had unusual sickness in the family, and E. and 
her son were left at the farm alone for two or three weeks. They 
also were both taken sick ; and probably suffered somewhat for the 
want of nursing, before we were aware of it and could bring them 
home. In reference to this time she says, that after she was taken 
sick, she thought with herself, that she had found no relief to her 
mind in our way, meaning that of Christians, and that she would 
again try her old way of medicine songs ; and that she spent the 
greater part of several nights in songs and her former Indian mum- 
mery. After she was brought home, she discontinued this ; but she 
thinks she lost nearly all anxiety about her soul, and seemed to have 
no feeling further than to take care of her son as he failed. He talk- 
ed with her for sometime, but she said she did not feel it much, that 
she was like one who had lost her senses, and nothing seemed to 
move her feelings. A few days before Joseph's death, he had a 
long conversation with her ; told her that he should die soon, and 
that he wanted her to promise him never to drink any more whiskey, 
to remain with the mission family, listen to their instructions, and 
pray every day to God : then, when she died she would go to God 
with him. At first she told him that if he died she would die too. 
But Joseph said that was wrong ; that it would not be as she said 



5S8 MEMOIRS OF 

when to die ; but that God only had a right to have her die when 
he wished. At length she promised him that she would remember 
and do as he had requested. 

During the whole scene attending Joseph's death and funeral, her 
behavior was singularly calm and solemn : so much so, that it was 
noticed by all. Many a professing Christian mother might have re- 
ceived from E. in that afflictive scene, a silent, though awful reproof, 
for immoderate grief. When she perceived that his spirit was really 
gone, the tears rolled and she exclaimed, " My son ! my son I" in 
Indian : but farther than this, not a complaint nor groan was heard to 
escape her lips. 

After the funeral I sat down with her and had a long conversation. 
Among other things I asked her why it was that she appeared as she 
had done : whether it had been so at the death of her other children ? 
To this last she said no : and gave some account of her feelings and 
conduct— -how she had, as is common among the Indians, wailed and 
mangled her own body in self-affliction. In answer to the former 
part, she said, " I have no such feelings now — God is good, and I 
feel that what he has done must be right." Although she expressed 
no consciousness of the love of God in her soul ; yet she furnished 
comfortable evidence to my mind, that her feelings were under the 
sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit. On the following night, as 
she now relates, while fixing her bed, all which had passed between 
her and Joseph a few days before his death rushed upon her mind 
like a torrent, awakening at the same time an impression, that there 
was no hope for her soul : but in a moment she involuntarily resolv- 
ed to pray once more that God would have mercy. For the pur- 
pose of greater retirement she started to go to the cellar ; and while 
descending the stairs, as if she could go no further, she settled down 
and began to pour out her desires. This is the last distinct recollec- 
tion she has of any thing that took place then. How or when she 
got back she has no knowledge. Between 11 and 12 o'clock, I 
heard a distressed noise, and lighting a candle, immediately I went 
to her and found her apparently asleep ; and upon awaking her, I 
asked her if she was sick, she said No ; and I went back. The first 
that she remembered was seeing me with a candle in my hand. 
She afterwards, as she says, engaged in prayer again, and was then, 
for the first time conscious of enjoyment in the love of Christ. The 
next morning, her soul was so filled with love to all the members of 
the family, that as she saw one and another, she says, she felt that 
her own children had never been so near her heart as they. Now 
she felt so entirely reconciled to the death of Joseph, that she had 
no inclination to grieve. At times, she says, her mind would recur 
to the scene of his death ; but to use her own expressions literally 
interpreted, " 1 felt as if I was in a narrow happy way, and if a 
thought came to me about Joseph, it seemed like being drawn out of 
this way, and I longed to get back again immediately." With these 



ELIZA, AN INDIAN FEMALE. 5S9 

happy feelings towards God and Christians, she now for the first 
time thought a great deal of her own people. " Oh if they could 
only see as I do, how happy they would be !" 

When asked about the state of her mind afterward, she said, "I 
have always been happy in God since then. The more I have had 
a view of the love of God in Christ since, and the longer I have liv- 
ed, the more I have desired to love him, and to love him more and 
more, and to be more and more like him in my soul. I do not 
know that I have since ever had any sorrow of soul so great as I have 
had for those who are ignorant of God. Much sorrow I have often 
had for them. Sometimes when going into church, or while there, 
it has made me weep to think of those who do not love God. There 
has never been one day since 1 found peace to my soul, when I did 
not feel mat God was with me." The reason which she assigns for 
this mercy is, that God will soon take her out of the world, and that 
he is pleased thus to be preparing her for his presence. " Every 
Sabbath," she says, " I have felt that this leaves me one Sabbath 
less to be in this world, and brings me one Sabbath nearer the time 
when I shall be with Christ." 

Here, on being particularly questioned, she related three instances 
when for a time her mind was troubled. A year ago she was reduc- 
ed quite low, and one evening word was brought that E. was dying. 
On going to her room she was found to be very languid, but after 
some time revived, so as to be able to converse. She was question- 
ed relative to her views and feelings, to which she gave answers ex- 
pressive of joy in prospect of being soon with God. She answered 
one of the sisters to this effect, " I long to be gone : I want to have 
the time come." Afterwards she felt that she had expressed impa- 
tience, and it grieved her exceedingly; so that she had several seasons 
of weeping between that and the following Sabbath morning. 

Another time to which she referred, she had gone to bed and as 
she supposes, had not slept long when she awoke and felt a desire to 
pray. She rose and knelt down, but had been engaged but a few 
moments before she drowsed. This occurred again ; but awaking 
the second time, she was alarmed at herself, and feared that her love 
to God was all dying; and so great was her distress, that it banished 
every sleepy feeling. With fears and a burdened heart she set about 
prayer in earnest ; nor did she leave until her tears of sorrow were 
turned into tears of joy. Then was her soul so full that she could 
not sleep, and the remainder of the night was spent in prayer, and 
joy that God was with her. 

The other instance was on an occasion, when the girls had made 
some remarks to her, from which she thought, as she was always sick 
they and the rest of the family considered her as burdensome, and 
wished her away. This made her fell unhappy for a few hours, but 
before night she obtained that relief in prayer, which restored peace 
to her soul. 



590 MEMOIRS OF 

I afterwards put several questions to her which follow, together 
with her answers. 

You have said that before you found peace in Christ, you did for 
a long time — for many months—feel yourself miserably wretched, 
and that you often prayed ; was it for the sake of these prayers that 
God gave you peace? or was there any good in them? "No, it was 
because of Christ's pity to my soul ; because he died for poor sin- 
ners; and it was of God's mercy that missionaries were sent to teach 
me." — Do you mean to have me understand from all you have said, 
that you never had any fears that you were deceived : no time in 
which you have doubted whether you had a part in the Savior or 
not? "I have always felt sure that God has had mercy on my soul ; 
and the more I have thought of my old wicked life, it has been like 
one pushing me nearer to God : it has made me feel more humble in 
myself, and a strong desire to live only for him." — But should God 
take away his Spirit from your heart and leave you to yourself, what 
do you think would become of you ? " I should be good for nothing." 
Have you any fears that God will ever take away his Spirit from your 
soul ? "No." — Why ? " from what I have heard of his word, be has 
promised to keep those that trust in him ; and I believe he is faithful 
to his word." 

There have been several times when in your sickness you have 
been very low, and have had reason to think you would live but a few 
hours or days ; have you at none of these times been unwilling or 
afraid to die ? " No." — Have you always felt, if it were God's will, 
that it would be a privilege to die, and you would be glad to have the 
hour come ? " Yes ; I have. This fall, when I was very sick for two 
days and nights, and felt that God only could make me better or take 
me away, I thought, if it were his will, how glad I should be to be 
sure that I was dying, that I might be with God." — A year ago last 
spring you was baptized and received into the church ; can you tell 
me any thing of your feelings at that time about the ordinances ? 
" after I understood their design, that Christ had commanded them 
and why he had done it, I had a very strong desire to be baptized 
and to receive the sacrament; nor is there any thing in this world 
that I have felt to be so great a privilege. When at the table I was 
baptized and promised solemnly to be for God, I really felt in my 
heart every word, and that I was now all the Lord's, and no more for 
myself or for any other. I was happier than I can express, in the 
privilege of being there with the love of God in my heart ; and when 
receiving the bread and wine, I felt that I could not be thankful 
enough to God for bringing me to the table once. I thought I should 
come there no more ; but that the next time I should be at God's 
table in heaven." — You see that it has not been as you thought. 
You have communed several times : have those always been pre- 
cious seasons to your soul? "Yes, every one of them." — Have they 
been as precious as the first one ? " Yes : as I have heard more of 



ELIZA, AN INDIAN FEMALE. 591 

the Savior, and have learned more of his love from the bible, I have 
felt each time, if possible, more and more near and happy in him." 
What good do you think that baptism or the sacrament could do you 
without a heart to love the Savior ? " None. There would be no 
joy to my soul in them." — Could you have this joy and peace of 
which you have told me, if you did not as far as you know strive to 
obey God in all things ? " no ; I could not. Though unable to do 
any thing with my hands to help the family and to labor for God, it 
is my sincere desire daily to have my heart much in prayer for them 
and for the salvation of their souls ; and because God lets me live, I 
believe he wishes me to be devoted in spirit to this. — Do you think 
you love God and souls as much as you ought ? "no: I try to love, 
but do not feel so much as I ought. — When do you expect to have 
perfect love to God and souls? at first she answered, " never;" think- 
ing that I meant while in the body. Afterwards she said, " when I 
get to heaven." 

Respecting the foregoing narrative, Mr. Ferry, the missionary 
remarks, — 

I have written it as taken from the woman through an interpreter, 
and as having in part fallen under my own observation. I have scru- 
pulously avoided any thing like a more favorable coloring than facts 
would justify. The statements have been read by those who have 
had most knowledge of the subject of them, and of her exercises, 
and they believe that the impression which will naturally be left on 
the mind of the reader will be less striking than the reality. In res- 
pect to uninterrupted peace and spirituality of mind, the case of this 
woman is unlike any other which I ever knew. Aware that some 
will at once set it down as untrue or a delusion, I have faithfully tried 
but in vain, to draw from her something which would warrant me in 
truth to cloud some part of her christian life with doubt, but you 
might as well attempt to make her disbelieve her existence, as to 
convince her that she has been left to go mourning the hidings of 
God's countenance from her soul. She is indeed a favored child, 
ripening fast for glory : sick or well, in pain or at ease, she always 
meets us with a placid, and most commonly with a smiling counte- 
nance. She is afflicted with consumptive complaints, and for many 
months has raised blood freely : we have expected that before this 
she would have been at rest. 

She died at the mission station, Nov. 23, 1830, By the blessing 
of God on the religious instruction given her, she had been rais- 
ed from uncommon debasement to a degree of Christian knowledge 
and piety, seldom attained by persons in her circumstances. At the 
time of her decease, "she exhibited," says Mr. Ferry, "the charac- 
ter of the believer triumphing in death. For many months she had 
been almost daily looking for her departure. Though suffering much 
in body, yet she was uniformly patient and happy. She repeatedly 
said on the day of her death, ' I think I shall go to day.' At night sbe 



592 MEMOIRS, &C. 

shook hands with some of the members of the mission family, and 
with a smile spoke of it as the last time. But a few minutes before 
her death, in allusion to David's words, she said she feared no evil. 
Surely no unbeliever, observing her course down the dark valley, 
could any longer doubt the reality of religion, or deny the importance 
of carrying the tidings of the gospel to the unlettered savage." 

From the Missionary Herald, Vol, 25—1829; and Vol, 27—1831. 



593 



MRS. MYRA Wo ALLEN. 



Mrs. Allen was born in Westminster, Massachusetts, on the 7th 
of December, 1S00 5 and was the youngest daughter of colonel Abel' 
Wood. She enjoyed the unspeakable advantage of a religious edu- 
cation ; and her parents had the satisfaction of seeing all their chil- 
dren, nine in number, members of that church with which they were 
walking in the fear of the Lord. She was also favored, both at home 
and in a neighboring town to which she was sent for the purpose at 
the age of about seventeen years, with facilities for cultivating her 
mind and storing it with useful knowledge. She obviously availed 
herself of these advantages with much diligence. The following 
paragraphs taken from a paper written by herself, give an account of 
the beginnings of spiritual life in her soul. The paper is without date, 
but must refer to the period between her eighteenth and twenty-sec- 
ond year. 

" As long as I have any recollection, I have been the subject of 
serious religious impressions. I was early instructed in the truths of 
religion — the government of a holy, sovereign God, who had an in- 
finite hatred of sin, requiring perfect obedience of his creatures, and 
punishing every transgression of his holy law with eternal death — the 
duty of repentance — the necessity of a change of heart, and the way 
of salvation through a crucified Redeemer. I was convinced of the 
truth and importance of these things, but they were wholly uncon- 
genial with my carnal affections. 1 intended some time to attend to 
them, but could not think them calculated to afford happiness to the 
youthful mind. Thus I practically said ' Go thy way,' &c. In this 
manner I quieted my conscience, not, however, without being fre-' 
quently roused by a solemn providence or a searching impressive 
sermon — sometimes to be almost persuaded to become a Christian. 
About the age of thirteen, I was much interested in reading the life 
of Mrs. Newell. I admired her amiable and engaging disposition, 
and was much affected with her early piety. This I was persuad- 
ed was the source of those lovely virtues which so highly adorned 
her character. I believed she was happy, and almost wished my- 
self possessed of that which could render her so cheerful amidst so 
many trying scenes. But I could not endure the idea of renouncing 
my worldly pleasures and companions, and of bearing the reproach 
which I thought I should meet from the gay and thoughtless. I re- 
mained in a slate similar to this till the 17th year of my age, when I 
think my attention was a little more excited. 

" About this time a number of my companions became seriously 
impressed with a sense of their dangerous situation as sinners, and 

75 



594 MEMOIRS OF 

began to inquire with solicitude, what they must do to be saved. I 
had often thought that if my young friends would seek religion, I 
would join in the pursuit. Now I had the trial of my sincerity. It 
occasioned at first some severe struggle in my mind to become will- 
ing to renounce the world and its vain pleasures, * to meet the world's 
dread laugh' and endure the sneers of some whom I loved ; but I 
soon resolved that notwithstanding all these, 1 would make religion 
my business, and that, through divine assistance, I would persevere in 
this resolution, though all my days should be spent in the search. 

" I desire to bless the Lord that he did not suffer me to be again 
ensnared by the vanities of youth, and lured from the path I was re- 
solved to tread. I was led to hope, that, though long left to wander 
in darkness, without any light, even ' darkness that might be felt, 5 
there might still be mercy for me ; but if I never obtain comfort, I 
choose to spend my life thus, rather than engage in worldly amuse- 
ments and pleasures. Nearly four years passed without bringing me 
any lasting relief." 

After spending a few months in a neighboring town where there 
was a revival of religion, she remarks— 

" Shortly after my return, however, I began to view things in a 
different light. I began to feel there might be hope, even for me. 
The promise, c Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out, 5 
I found included all ; and the passage, ' He is faithful that promis- 
ed,' &c. increased my confidence. I clearly saw that my heart was 
exceedingly polluted ; but those scriptures, ' Behold the Lamb of 
God that taketh away the sins of the world,' and ' The blood of 
Christ cleanseth from all sin,' appeared to meet my case, and they 
were to me sweetly refreshing. The character of the Savior ap- 
peared lovely, and no longer as l a root out of a dry ground :' yet my 
apprehensions of divine things were quite obscure. I often thought 
of the blind man who, after once washing his eyes, could discern 
* men as trees walking.' I remained thus, sometimes hoping, some- 
times not daring to hope, through the winter." 

She continued in this state'of darkness and doubting during three 
or four months ; but at length, having obtained clearer views of the 
great truths of the gospel, and acquiescing mere fully in them, she 
was enabled to add — 

" A tranquil serenity now took possession of my breast, such as 
had long been a stranger there. The plan of salvation opened to 
my view in a lovely engaging light, and I felt that there was safety 
in committing myself wholly to sovereign mercy. If left to perish, no 
injustice would be done, yet I fully believed that none who did trust 
in the Savior unreservedly would be cast off. 

" I had long regarded it as a privilege of which I was utterly un- 
worthy, to be admitted to the Lord's table. I now saw, that unwor- 
thy as I was, it was a duty I ought not to neglect. After serious de- 
liberation, therefore, I gave ray name to be proposed to the church 



MRS. MYRA W. ALLEN. 595 

for admission, and on the 8th December, 1822, entered into solemn 
covenant engagements to be the Lord's. It was a day of solemni- 
ty and joy to my soul, and one which I felt called for the most live- 
ly gratitude, not only for the mercy I experience myself, but that 
others received the same with me — a dear brother and niece being 
received to church-fellowship at the same time. For a considerable 
time I was scarcely troubled with a serious doubt. I had no ecsta- 
sies of joy, but a peace and tranquillity such as I never before expe- 
rienced." 

In a journal which Mrs. Allen kept, and in which she made en- 
tries with more or less regularity, she records her feelings on the day 
when she offered herself a candidate for admission to the church, and 
on that when she first sat down at the table of Christ. 

"JVbw. 24, 1822. — After repeated self-examination and earnest 
supplication for the aid of the Holy Spirit to direct in the path of du- 
ty, I have at length come to a decision— ^and this day offered myself 
in a public manner for admission into the church. What lively grat- 
itude ought 1 to exercise for the distinguishing goodness of God to 
so stubborn a rebel. To the praise of sovereign grace I would re- 
cord it. I humbly hope and trust that I have tasted of the love of 
Christ, and, though long left to wander in darkness, that I have at 
length enjoyed the cheering beams of the Sun of Righteousness, and 
been led to consecrate myself to the service of my Creator. If, 
however, I am deceived — how dreadful ? O Lord, discover to me 
my true state. Grant me the light of thy countenace, whatever else 
thou deniest, for Jesus' sake. 

" Dec. 8. — The solemn scene is past. I have publicly avouched 
the Lord to be my God and portion — my teacher and sanctifier — 
my prophet, priest, and king; and am 'witness against myself that 
I have chosen the Lord to serve him.' Now, if I should go astray 
and wound this precious cause, I must be without excuse. O Lord, 
look graciously upon me, and grant that my resolutions of new obe- 
dience, made I trust in reliance on thy divine aid, may not prove 
transient as the morning dew ; but may I have grace to be faithful. 
Suffer me not to break the solemn covenant engagements into which 
I have entered ; but make me useful in the spiritual vineyard. Look 
in compassion on my dear companions. O revive thy work in this 
place ; especially among the youth. The spiritual interest of a num- 
ber lies near my heart in a special manner. And may I never, by 
a careless walk or an unchristian temper, prove a l stumbling block' 
to them ; but may I recommend the religion of Jesus by exempli- 
fying its pure, peaceable, humble, compassionate, self-denying spir- 
it. I am weak in myself — may thy grace be made perfect in my 
weakness. 

A few additional extracts will be taken from this journal, illustra- 
tive of some conspicuous traits in her character. 



696 MEMOIRS OF 

Mrs, Allen was tenderly attached to her young companions and 
friends, and most earnestly longed for their welfare, and especially 
their conversion to God. On returning home from the school where 
she had spent some months, she thus gives vent to her pious solici- 
tude for those with whom she had been associated. 

"Sept. 4, 1822. — I have now taken my leave of those compan- 
ions with whom I have spent so many pleasant hours in literary pur- 
suits, and returned to my native place. To many of them I have 
probably bid the last adieu, no more to meet them on the shores of 
time. It is a solemn and affecting consideration. It is painful to 
the heart possessed of any degree of sensibility to separate from those 
whom we love ; to sever the tender ties of friendship. But separa- 
tion is needful in this imperfect state. 

" Friends must part and friendship sigh, 
Although it knows not how to die." 

" How much would the pangs of parting be mitigated, could we 
indulge the pleasing hope that we should all meet at last on Canaan's 
happy shore, no more to endure a separation. But how dreadful is 
the idea of a final separation ! How heart-rending the thought, that 
any of us should be finally cast off and be banished from all good, 
to dwell with everlasting burnings ! Merciful Savior, prepare us by 
thy grace to appear before thy throne, clad in the robes of thy right- 
eousness, and to spend an eternity in thy presence ! Follow each 
member of that seminary with thy special blessing, and may both 
teachers and pupils become ornaments to society, and useful mem- 
bers of the church of Christ." 

On another occasion she writes — 

"May 29, 1823.— A tribute of gratitude and praise is due to the 
Almighty Redeemer for his abundant grace displayed in the recent 
conversion of two dear friends, and I embrace this early opportunity 
to record it. Situated so favorably as they were for embracing re- 
ligion, I have felt much anxiety for their spiritual welfare ; and often 
have attempted to commend their cases to him whose sovereign 
grace alone can change the flinty heart, and bestow that peace which 
springs from believing in Jesus, and a hope full of immortality. 

" My most sanguine hopes are now realized. 1 have abundant tes- 
timony in proof of the happy change, and though deprived of the 
privilege of being a personal witness, yet 1 do rejoice, yea and will 
rejoice in the glorious event. Shall the angels of God rejoice over 
the conversion of sinners, and shall not his professing children min- 
gle their more feeble notes with the general songs of praise ? Oh 
yes ; the sacrifice of thanksgiving, rising from a truly contrite and 
pious soul, we have encouragement to believe, will find acceptance 
with our gracious Sovereign. I do indulge the hope that if our lives 
are prolonged, I shall yet behold with my eyes and hear for myself, 
wljat I have heard from other; : that 1 shall mingle Christian con- 



MRS. MYRA VV. ALLEN. 597 

gratulations with them, and offerings of grateful praise to him who 
has caused us to hope in his mercy." 

This solicitude for her friends whom she could not regard as the 
followers of Christ was especially conspicuous when the period ar- 
rived that was to separate her from them forever in this world. With 
many of them she conversed with much affection and solemnity ; to 
others she wrote during her passage to India ; and for all she cher- 
ished the most tender attachment, and often remembered them in 
her prayers. After arriving at Bombay, she made the following en- 
try in her journal. 

"June 27, 1828. — I have just received letters from America, and 
have been rejoiced in recognizing the hand writing of dear friends 
with whom I have often, in years past, enjoyed Christian communion. 
But far greater has been my joy in hearing that many, who are en- 
deared by the ties of nature and friendship, have embraced the Sa- 
vior by a living faith, and are devoting themselves to his service. 
The description of such a season of refreshing from the Lord, in my 
native place, brings vividly to mind similar scenes which I once wit- 
nessed, and in which I so much rejoiced. Such scenes will yet be 
witnessed in this dark part of the world. Blessed be the Lord, his 
power is not restrained, and he is able to save as well in heathen as 
in Christian countries." 

The journal of Mrs. Allen shows that she humbly and diligently 
examined herself; that she made it her business to grow in holiness; 
that she carried on the warfare with sin vigorously ; and that she 
had such a familiar acquaintance with her own heart, and with the 
difficulties and comforts of a Christian life, as constitutes a distinct, 
palpable Christian experience, On the 8th of December, 1823, she 
writes — 

" ' Grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior 
Jesus Christ.' This is a positive command of the inspired volume : 
I select it as suitable for meditation to-day, as it completes a year 
since I publicly took the covenant of God upon me. 1 desire to put 
the question to my heart and conscience, what advances in the di- 
vine life have I made during this year? The Lord has been pleas- 
ed to plant me in a well cultivated vineyard, and has watched with 
a scrutinizing eye to behold what fruit I would bring forth. But 1 
have not surely made that improvement I ought, and might have 
made. I have not sought out and improved opportunities for doing 
good according to the ability I possessed. Let this be for my con- 
stant humiliation. And if I have been enabled to do any thing for 
the glory of God ; his shall be all the praise. I would now form 
some new resolutions for my future conduct, and strive to give a 
strict adherence to them. Should my life and health be spared, L 
intend to select a chapter each morning for a subject of meditation, 
committing to memory one or more important verses to employ the 
vacant moments through the day I would also be more strict in 



598 MEMOIRS OF 

the government of my thoughts, and watchful over my general con- 
duct; particularly when likely to be exposed to temptation. I would 
also be more strict and constant in self-examination, and strive to be 
more fervent in secret devotion. 

"March 27, 1825. — I would now review my exercises during the 
past winter. The Lord has been in this place, reviving, I trust, the 
languishing graces of his children, pouring out a spirit of prayer, and, 
by the still, small voice of his Spirit, convincing unbelievers of their 
danger and guilt, and giving them a hope in his pardoning grace. 
My heart, if it does not deceive me, has been deeply interested in 
this work. At times I have felt a joy inexpressible — and still I have 
ardent desires for its continuance and spread — till all shall unite in 
praising and loving and serving the dear Redeemer. I have felt 
that he is indeed a ' Refuge in the time of trouble.' The promises 
have afforded me sweet consolation ; and though at times nature has 
been ready to repine, yet I have earnestly sought his grace to sub- 
due my will and make me wholly submissive. I have sometimes 
found sweet peace in committing all my interests into his hands for 
time and eternity — my views of futurity have been brightened — and 
I have felt desirous to live more like a pilgrim, passing through a 
desert land, ' seeking a better country, even an heavenly.' May he 
perfect his work of grace in my soul, and enable me to receive the 
allotments of his providence with submission, rejoicing that his wis- 
dom overrules all things for good to them that trust in him. 

"Jan, 24, 1826. — It is near the hour of midnight. The stillness 
of the house, the calmness of nature, the lustre reflected from the 
new-fallen snow by the light of the almost full-orbed moon, the 
lengthened shadow of the trees, stript of their verdure, the clearness 
of the sky, displaying the starry gems of heaven, or losing itself in 
mellowing clouds, all combine to tranquilize the mind, to fill the soul 
with solemnity and awe, and raise the thoughts in holy adoration. 
The day is past — its transactions closed — its account sealed up for 
eternity. And thus our mortal days will all fleet away, and soon 
the last will arrive. And can I be regardless for one moment of the 
solemn consequences that will be the result of my daily conduct ? 
Jesus Savior, to thee again I flee ; Oh pardon the sins and follies of 
the past day. Grant me sanctifying, quickening, preventing grace ; 
and while I am permitted to continue in this state of trial, let me not 
live in vain." 

It is evident from the journal of Mrs. Allen that she took great de- 
light in the Sabbath, as a day of holy rest. On the 9th of March, 
1823, she writes — 

" With emotions of sacred pleasure would I hail the return of the 
holy Sabbath— gracious appointment of heaven for the refreshment 
of weary pilgrims, wandering through the mazes of sin and wicked- 
ness in the desert wilds of this world, and directing their course tow- 
ards the heavenly Canaan, the mansion of eternal rest. How sweet 



MRS. MYRA W. ALLEN. 599 

to find in the sanctuary a sacred retreat from the cares and perplex- 
ities which attend us through the week — to unite in the solemn pray- 
ers and sacred songs of praise, and to listen to the faithful dispensa- 
tion of the word of life ! O gracious Father ! may I this day expe- 
rience these divine joys in thy house ; may I be washed from my in- 
numerable sins in the fountain of redeeming blood ; be delivered from 
wandering thoughts, and attend with solemn reverence to the minis- 
trations of thy word." 

In May, 1S27, Mrs. Allen was married to the Rev. David Oliver 
Allen, and with him embarked at Boston for Calcutta, on the 6th of 
June following. She arrived at Bombay on the 28th of the next 
November. On the first of May, immediately after deciding to be- 
come a partner in the trials and labors of a mission to the heathen, 
she made an entry in her journal, which shows with how much 
anxiety and prayerfulness she labored to ascertain her duty on that 
point, and how firmly and cheerfully her mind was made up to the 
work. 

" For several days the conflict of my mind was so great as to de- 
stroy my relish for food, and almost to deprive me of sleep. But I 
desire to bless God that he has, if I rightly interpret the indications 
of his providence, shed light on my path, and shewn the way in 
which he would have me go, for I trust he has enabled me to lift up 
my soul to him for direction." 

" And now I am decided. Yes, I will offer myself a living sacri- 
fice, to assist, so far as he shall give ability, in the arduous labors of ex- 
tending a knowledge of salvation to the heathen. And in making this 
surrender, I feel most happy. Yes, I will bless my covenant God 
and Savior for the high privilege of enduring hardships and priva- 
tions for " him, who, though he was rich, for our sakes became poor." 
Yet I know that his grace alone can sustain me. I would not " trust 
in my own heart," nor neglect to " count the cost." I would not, 
I trust I do not rush into this work uncalled." 

On the fifth of February, 1831, it pleased the Lord, in a sudden 
and afflictive manner, to remove Mrs. Allen by death. She had 
entered on her missionary labors with much zeal, and had applied 
herself to the attainment of the Mahratta language with much suc- 
cess ; and in the formation and superintendence of female schools, 
in the direct religious instruction of the scholars connected with them, 
and other adults who were attracted by her influence and exertions ; 
in the visitation of the sick and afflicted, in administering counsel to 
those who viewed her as a friend, and in many other ways, which 
need not be mentioned, she accomplished much good. Her mission- 
ary course was short, extending to less than three years and a quar- 
ter. But she has left evidence that she was habitually ready for her 
departure. About a year after her arrival at Bombay, on the anni- 
versary of her birth-day, she made the following entry in her journal* 



000 MEMOIRS OF 

" Many years have passed away since I have occupied a place in 
the vineyard of the Lord, and many mercies have I received. To 
me there must ere long be a last yea?*, a last day, a last moment. 

1 hear the admonitory voice, " Do with thy might what thy hand 
findeth to do, the night cometh, when no man can work." Perhaps 
it may be near to me, even the night of death. But the dawn of 
eternal day is discovered by the eye of faith ; and, though the black- 
ness of darkness awaits all unbelievers, yet they who trust in Jesus 
shall be saved from that awful state. Though many and dark be the 
stains of sin, yet the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin, and robes 
of glory shall forever adorn those who have washed in that precious 
fountain. I have given myself in covenant to God to be his for time 
and eternity, and if I am his in life, I shall be also in death." 

Mrs. Allen died in great peace, and in the exercise of an over- 
coming faith, deeply beloved and lamented by her associates in labor 5 
and by many of the natives to whom her kindness had much en- 
deared her. 

The funeral was attended from the mission chapel on the same day, 
when numerous friends testified their respect for the character of the 
deceased. On the evening of the day following, the Rev. John Wil- 
son, Scottish missionary, and author of the valuable Life of Eliot, the 
apostle to the Indians, which has been re-published by the American 
Sunday School Union, preached a sermon on occasion of her death, 
from Heb. xi. 13. The subjoined extract from his sermon gives a 
just view of her character. 

" My brethren, the circumstances and character of the beloved 
friend, whom God in his adorable Providence has so lately removed 
from us, and whose loss we so deeply lament, were in many respects 
similar to those of the witnesses, mentioned in the chapter from which 
our text is taken. She possessed that " faith, which is the substance 
of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen." Like 
Enoch, she "walked with God," enjoying his favor, and delighting 
in his service. Like Abraham, she looked to this land of spiritual 
promise, and, with fervent and holy desire of being a coadjutor in 
the great work of making known to its benighted inhabitants the glad 
tidings of salvation through a crucified Redeemer, she left her kin- 
dred and her father's house — the scenes of her tender association 
and holy impression, and sojourned in a land, whose attractions are 
not those of ease and worldly enjoyment, but to which she was at- 
tached by deep compassion and ardent sympathy for the lost children 
of the family of man, and by zeal for the divine glory. In this situ- 
ation in which she was placed, and in the labor which she was called 
to perform, she found something more than contentment and resigna- 
tion— she found occasions of gratitude, and sources of the highest 
joy. The work was congenial to her mind, and dear to her soul. 
She hallowed it with her prayers, and devoted to it, without reserva- 
tion, her time, her strength, and her talents. With the most commen- 



MRS. MTRA W. ALLEN. 601 

dable diligence she made herself acquainted, in a degree seldom ex- 
hibited by her sex, with the language and customs of a large portion 
of the natives, who at first appeared to her as a people of a strange 
countenance and a strange tongue. The degraded females around 
us, both old and young, heard from her lips the doctrine of salvation. 
They observed her holy walk, and the operation of that principle by 
which she condemned the world. Those who were acquainted with 
her know her excellence and appreciated her worth. They witness- 
ed her deadness to the world, and her desire for an entrance into that 
city which hath foundations, and whose builder and maker is God. 
They knew the meekness of her spirit and her unwearied benevo- 
lence. They saw the peace of the gospel, which passeth all under- 
standing, sustain her in the hour of affliction and trial. They heard 
her, in view of her dissolution and her solemn entrance into eternity, 
express her humble reliance on the Redeemer. And in the exercise 
of faith they traced her ascent to that great cloud of witnesses, who 
urge us to lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth most easily 
beset us, and to run with patience the race that is set before us." 

From the Missionary Herald, "Vol. xxvii. — 1S31, and Vol. xxviii. — 1832. 



7(3 



602 



MISS HANNAH ADAMS. 



For an account of this eminent lady, we are indebted to her own 
history of her life, the only document that contains the materials of 
her biography. 

I was born in Medfield, a country town about eighteen miles from 
Boston. My father early imbibed a love of literature, and prepared 
to enter the university. But as his constitution then appeared to be 
very infirm, and he was an only son, his parents were strenuously 
opposed to his leaving them. Accordingly, to his inexpressible dis- 
appointment, he was obliged to settle upon their large farm, without 
a suitable knowledge of, or taste for, agricultural pursuits. This in- 
duced him to open a shop, for the sale, principally, of English goods 
and books. His taste for reading continued unabated till his death, 
which took place at the advanced age of eighty eight years. 

From my infancy I had a feeble constitution ; in particular, an 
extreme weakness and irritability in my nervous system. Hence I 
can recollect uneasiness and pain previous to any pleasurable sensa- 
tions. My mother was an excellent woman, and deservedly esteem- 
ed and beloved ; but as her own health was delicate, and she pos- 
sessed great tenderness and- sensibility, I was educated in all the 
habits of debilitating softness, which probably added to my constitu- 
tional want of bodily and mental firmness. 

My father's circumstances then appeared affluent, and it was not 
supposed I should be reduced to the necessity of supporting myself 
by my own exertions. Partly from ill health, and an early singular- 
ity of taste, I took no pleasure in the amusements to which children 
are generally much attached. My health did not even admit of at- 
tending school with the children in the neighborhood where I re- 
sided. The country schools, at that time, were kept but a few 
months in the year, and all that was then taught in them was read- 
ing, writing and arithmetic. In the summer, the children were in- 
structed by females in reading, sewing, and other kinds of work. 
The books chiefly made use of were the Bible and Psalter. Those 
who have had the advantages of receiving the rudiments of their 
education at the schools of the present day, can scarcely form an 
adequate idea of the contrast between them, and those of an earlier 
age ; and of the great improvements which have been made, even 
in the common country schools. The disadvantages of my early 
education I have experienced during life ; and, among various oth- 
ers, the acquiring a very faulty pronunciation ; a habit contracted so 
early, that I cannot wholly rectify it in later years. 



memoirs, ho. 603 

In my early years I was extremely timid, and averse from appear- 
ing in company. Indeed, I found but few with whom I could hap- 
pily associate. My life, however, was not devoid of enjoyment. 
The first strong propensity of my mind which I can recollect, was 
an ardent curiosity, and desire to acquire knowledge. I remember 
that my first idea of the happiness of Heaven was, of a place where 
we should find our thirst for knowledge fully gratified. From my 
predominant taste, I was induced to apply to reading, and as my 
father had a considerable library, I was enabled to gratify my inclin- 
ation. I read with avidity a variety of books, previously to my mind's 
being sufficiently matured and strengthened to make a proper selec- 
tion. I was passionately fond of novels; and, as I lived in a state 
of seclusion, I acquired false ideas of life. The ideal world which 
my imagination formed was very different from the real. My pas- 
sions were naturally strong, and this kind of reading heightened my 
sensibility, by calling it forth to realize scenes of imaginary distress. 
I was also an enthusiastic admirer of poetry; and as my memory, 
at an early period, was very tenacious, I committed much of the 
writings of my favorite poets to memory, such as Milton, Thomson, 
Young, he. I did not, however, neglect the study of history and 
biography, in each of which kind of reading I found an inexhausti- 
ble fund to feast my mind, and gratify my curiosity. 

Another source of my enjoyments in early life was an ardent ad- 
miration of the beauties of nature. This enthusiasm was heightened 
by the glowing descriptions of poetic writers, and I entered into all 
their feelings. This taste has continued through life. At the pres- 
ent time, when age and experience have in some measure repressed 
the warmth of my feelings, and while I am now writing, I should be 
more delighted with beautiful rural prospects, and fine flowers, than 
when in early life I used to be enraptured with contemplating the sub- 
lime and beautiful in the works of creation. 

My early life was diversified with few events, and those of a pain- 
ful nature. The loss of my excellent mother, which happened when 
I had reached my tenth year, was the first severe trial I was called 
to suffer. When her death took place, I was at an age when ma- 
ternal direction is of the greatest importance, particularly in the ed- 
ucation of daughters. Soon after, 1 was bereaved of an aunt, who 
was attached to me with almost maternal fondness. A few years 
after, my father failed in trade, in consequence of which I was redu- 
ced to poverty, with a constitution and early habits which appeared 
invincible obstacles to my supporting myself by my own exertions. 
Instead of that gayety, which is often attendant on youth, I was ear- 
ly accustomed to scenes of melancholy and distress ; and every mis- 
fortune was enhanced by a radical want of health, and firmness of 
mind. My life passed in seclusion, with gloomy prospects before 
me, and surrounded with various perplexities from which I could not 
extricate myself. The solitude in which I lived was, however, to 



604 MEMOIRS OF 

me, preferable to society in general ; and to that, and to my natural 
singularity, I must impute that awkwardness of manners, of which I 
never could divest myself at an advanced period of life. A con- 
sciousness of this awkwardness produced a dislike to the company 
of strangers. Those who have been accustomed to genteel society 
when young, can scarcely imagine the trembling timidity I felt, when 
introduced to my superiors in circumstances and education. I, how- 
ever, enjoyed society upon a small scale. I had a few dear friends, 
(for novels had taught me to be very romantic,) who were chiefly in 
indigent circumstances, and like myself had imbibed a taste for read- 
ing, and were particularly fond of poetry and novels. Most of them 
wrote verses, which were read and admired by the whole little cir- 
cle. Our mutual love of literature, want of fortune, and indifference 
to the society of those whose minds were wholly uncultivated, serv- 
ed to cement a union between us, which was interrupted only by the 
removal of the parties to distant places, and dissolved only by their 
death. Yet I soon experienced this melancholy change. One aft- 
er another became victims to the King of Terrors, till our little so- 
ciety was greatly diminished ; and I deeply felt these bereavements 
which were irreparable. 

Sill, however, I was blessed with a sister of similar taste and sen- 
timents, but very different in her disposition. I was warm and irri- 
table in my temper ; she, placid and even. I was fluctuating and 
undecided ; she, steady and judicious. I was extremely timid ; she 
blended softness with courage and fortitude. I was inclined to be 
melancholy, though sometimes in high spirits ; she was uniformly 
serene and cheerful. I placed the strongest reliance upon her judg- 
ment, and as she was older than myself, she seemed the maternal 
friend, as well as the best of sisters. In short, " she was my guide, 
my friend, my earthly all." 

As I was too feeble to engage in any laborious employments, I 
found considerable leisure for reading; and as my happiness chiefly 
consisted in literary pursuits, I was very desirous of learning the ru- 
diments of Latin, Greek, geography and logic. Some gentlemen 
who boarded at my father's offered to instruct me in these branches 
of learning gratis, and I pursued these studies with indescribable 
pleasure and avidity. I still, however, sensibly felt the want of a 
more systematic education, and those advantages which females en- 
joy in the present day. Yet as I always read with great rapidity, 
perhaps few of my sex have perused more books at the age of 
twenty than I had. Yet my reading was very desultory, and novels 
engaged too much of my attention. Though my seclusion from the 
world preserved me from many temptations which are incident to 
young people, I was perhaps more exposed to errors of the under- 
standing, than those who in early life have mixed more with the 
w r orld. Time and experience have led me to see the falsity of many 
of my early opinions and ideas, and made me sensible that they were 
the source of a large share of the misfortunes of my following life. 



MISS HANNAH ADAMS. 605 

The habits of reading and study in which Miss Adams lived for 
many years, had the effect of unfitting her for ordinary occupations ; 
while her circumstances rendered it necessary that she should in some 
way labor for her own support. These reasons induced her to at- 
tempt the difficult and uncertain business of authorship, which be- 
came her employment for a great part of her life. Her first effort 
in this way was her View of Religions, a work which afterwards was 
eminently successful, and procured her no little credit as well as a 
handsome profit in the end. Her attention had been first directed 
to the subject by reading an account of the doctrinal differences be- 
tween Arminian, Calvinists, and several other common sects. This 
awakened her curiosity, and she arduously engaged in perusing all 
the books which she could obtain, that gave a fuller account of the 
subject. The style and tone of most of those authors whom she 
consulted, however, disgusted her, by the uncharitableness and preju- 
dice which characterized them, and from this she was led to form a 
plan of the subject for herself, and arranged the facts, for her own 
improvement, in a blank book which she prepared for that purpose. 
This she did at first merely with a view to her own instruction, but 
after a while, finding herself obliged to procure some means of sup- 
port, she was led by the difficulty of finding employment to attempt 
the preparation of the work for the public. With immense labor 
and trouble she prosecuted her undertaking, which was rendered still 
more difficult by the scarcity of proper materials that her situation 
prevented her procuring, till after various perplexities, she succeeded 
in putting the book to press in 1784. The profit which she received 
from the first edition was small, but from a second and third, she was 
able to acquire more of that emolument which was the just reward 
of her labor. 

The work which she gave to the world in these inauspicious cir- 
cumstances has justly had the reputation of being the most complete 
and important work of the kind ever before produced, and fixed her 
reputation high and permanently. 

While she was preparing the second edition of her View of Re- 
ligions, she suffered a most afflicting bereavement in the loss of the 
beloved sister, whom she has mentioned in her own account of her- 
self. She then experienced the keenest anguish the human heart 
can feel in losing a friend, and for a long time did not recover from 
the shock caused by the removal of one so precious and valued. 
Under this calamity Miss Adams drew her support from religion 
alone, as her manuscripts written at the time very clearly show. She 
employed herself when unable to compose, in making extracts from 
the Scriptures, which she applied to her particular state of mind. 
These she arranged in a little book which she preserved till her death. 

The next literary work in which Miss Adams engaged was her 
History of New England, which she published, without any profit 
to herself, however, though it went through two editions. When 



606 MEMOIRS OP 

she compiled this work, there was no history of New England extant, 
except such as related to the earliest periods of its annals. She 
was, therefore, obliged to go through with much laborious examina- 
tion of public records which was very fatiguing to her, and very 
exhausting to her eyes, which was the more unfortunate as she was 
thus for a time deprived of the means of employing her pen, while 
the work on which she bestowed so much pains never properly re- 
warded her exertions. 

She formed the design of writing the History of the Jews, which 
she executed accordingly, after much laborious and faithful investi- 
gation of facts relating to the subject. In this work she was much 
assisted by the kindness of the Rev. Mr. Buckminster, of Boston, 
whose friendship and regard for her continued till his death. 

The only other works which she ever published were, " The truth 
and excellence of the Christian Religion exhibited," a valuable work 
containing short sketches of the lives of eminent laymen who have 
written in defence of the Christian religion, with extracts from their 
writings ; and in her more advanced age, a little book entitled " Let- 
ters on the Gospels," which passed through two editions. 

Though her character was marked by some inoffensive peculiari- 
ties, Miss Adams passed through life respected and honored by the 
public, and loved by all who knew her. During a long life of use- 
fulness, she exemplified the Christian virtues in an eminent degree, 
and at last in the decline of old age, sunk to eternal rest in a calm 
and humble if not triumphant hope. 

That she perfectly understood her weaknesses, and moral expo- 
sures, and guarded in her heart the avenues to temptation, the follow- 
ing resolutions found among her papers, are a sufficient proof. 

Serious Resolutions. 

I resolve to read the bible more attentively and diligently, and to 
be constant and fervent in prayer for divine illumination and direction. 

2d. To read less from curiosity, and a desire to acquire worldly 
knowledge, and more for the regulation of my heart and life ; con- 
sequently, to have my reading less desultory, and to read more 
books of practical divinity. 

3d. In choosing my friends and companions, to have a greater re- 
gard to religious characters than I have hitherto had. 

4th. To avoid such company as has a tendency to unsettle my 
mind respecting religious opinions. 

5th. To endeavor to preserve a firm reliance on Divine Provi- 
dence, and to avoid all unreasonable worldly care and anxiety. 

6th. To pray and guard against loving my friends with that ardent 
attachment, and that implicit reliance upon them, which is incom- 
patible with supreme love to, and trust in God alone. 

7th. To endeavor to obtain a spirit of forgiveness towards my 
enemies, and to banish from my mind all those feelings of resent- 
ment, which are incompatible with the spirit of the gospel. 



MISS HANNAH ADAMS. 607 

But little remains to be added to this short sketch, and that little 
perhaps is expressed in the obituary notice which we subjoin. 

Died at Brookline, near Boston, on the 15th inst. Miss Hannah 
Adams, aged seventy six. Her literary labors have long been be- 
fore the public, and have made her name known in Europe as well 
as in her native land. Her first work, the ' View of Religions,' was 
published at a time when this country had few authors, and when a 
book from a female hand was almost without a precedent. She was 
not impelled by any desire of fame ; and though the hope of useful- 
ness, was undoubtedly a strong motive to her literary exertions, yet 
this would not have availed, without the prospect of contributing by 
her pen to her own support, and the comfort of her nearest friends. 
It is gratifying to know, that she has left behind a simple and inte- 
resting memoir of her early life, which precludes ihe necessity of 
saying more of her literary history. Indeed, literary claims are 
perhaps among the last that, at a moment like this, present them- 
selves to the minds of her friends. The virtues and excellences of 
her character, her blameless life, her sensibility, the warmth of her 
affections, her sincerity and candor, call forth a flow of feeling that 
cannot be restrained. To an almost child-like simplicity, and single- 
ness of heart she united a clear and just conception of character ; 
to a deep and affecting humility, a dignity and elevation of thought, 
that commanded the respect and veneration of those around her. 
Amid many infirmities she retained the freshness and enthusiasm 
of youth. Society never lost its charms. To the aged she listened 
with submission and gentleness ; to the classic and highly gifted, with 
a delight almost amounting to rapture. The young, and there were 
such who felt it a privilege to ' sit at her feet,' she viewed as ' minis- 
tering angels' dispensing joy and gladness. Her love of nature was 
exhaustless. The first beam of morning, the glory of noon, the 
last rays of the setting sun, were objects which through a long life 
were never contemplated with indifference. Those who were in 
the habit of visiting her, will recollect how constantly her apartment 
was decorated by flowers of the field, or the garden. It was her 
object to gather round her images of natural and moral beauty. In 
many respects her mind seemed so truly constituted for enjoyment, 
that to those who knew her but slightly, she might have appeared 
to be exempted from that mental discipline, which is gradually lead- 
ing the pilgrim on to the land of promise. But her friends knew 
otherwise ; they knew how keen was her religious sensibility, how 
tremblingly alive her conscience, how high her standard of excel- 
lence, and how great her timidity and self-distrust, and they felt that 
this was not her haven of rest. 

Though Miss Adams's faith was fervent and devout, it partook of 
the constitution of her sensitive mind, rather than gave the tone to 
it. Yet amidst moments of doubt and despondency, a passage from 
scripture, or a judicious observation, would disperse the clouds that 



s**- 



608 MEMOIRS, &C. 

had gathered around her, and the brightest sunshine would diffuse it- 
self over her mind and countenance. There are many who will sor- 
row that they shall see her * face no more ;' but those who knew the 
peculiar delicacy of her constitution, ought rather to rejoice that she 
has escaped from the present inclement winter ; from the stormy 
wind and tempest ; that her eyes have opened upon one eternal 
spring, a season that always awoke the enthusiasm of her nature, 
and which she said seemed to her ' like the first freshness of creation.' 
It was her happiness to have been conversant with some of the 
most enlightened and gifted men of the age. From many she re- 
ceived essential benefit ; and the universal sympathy and respect, 
as well as the individual kindness which she excited, are testimonies 
honorable to human nature. Many in whom she delighted have 
passed away. To those she has gone, and to the Father and Sa- 
vior whom she loved. 

From the Memoir of Miss Hannah Adams written by herself, with additional no- 
tices by a friend. Boston, 1832. 



THE END. 



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